


You are the Only Exception

by MrsStylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Jealous Harry, Jealousy, M/M, Niall is Louis' cheerleader, Not literally, POV Louis, Pining, Possessive Louis, Smut, but louis is kind of in denial, but then louis pines over harry, didn't even plan on having it in there but it just kind of happened, flirting like crazy, harry is his usual charming self, harry is over eager, harry pines over louis, it's not between harry and louis either, like a golden retriever, probably some clumsy references, rape/non consent is a very small part, that was a larry reference (to lighten the mood), touchy feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 91,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsStylinson/pseuds/MrsStylinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is 21 and a serial Casanova and Harry is the 17 year old heartbreaker who won't leave him alone who chooses to ignore this fact. Louis just might be falling in love with the ridiculously eager boy but Harry might just get tired of always giving chase.</p><p>Roughly based on/inspired by the relationship between Brian and Justin from Queer as Folk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Always happy to hear feedback or just for people to say hi or just tell me how much you love larry, makes me feel super duper happy :) Again, can't give an exact timeline of when I'll update, it's always about when the mood strikes but promise it will never be anything longer than two weeks. 
> 
> Oh and just quickly, this fic is dedicated to Kym not because she asked for it or because any part of it is written with her in mind cause I'm not that generous, but because she introduced me to fanfiction, this fandom, AU's, Larry and pretty much everything I love about one direction. Thank you for being my best friend and even for annoying me with countless Louis memes. 
> 
> Enjoy ! :) x
> 
> Russian translation - https://ficbook.net/readfic/3349643

The boy leaning awkwardly against the side of the bar is every sane man's wet dream. Trust me, Louis Tomlinson knows. With long legs clad in tight, black jeans and a matching long sleeved, black shirt that is unbuttoned indecently so, exposing smooth, rather pale skin, he's damn near stunning. He's biting his full lip that is coloured a natural yet somehow electric shade of red, Louis' favourite colour and shifting his arm restlessly where it rests on the top of the bar as he flushes under Nick's attention. This won't do.

Yet as Louis crosses the bar, abandoning the man he'd been chatting up for more time than he was worth, he finds that the boy before him is exactly that; a teenager. A boy. Maybe it's the surprised light in those emerald green eyes or the way his curls tickle his cheeks that are still slightly curved with youth but Louis is faced with quite the dilemma. While he is the type to take a different 'boy' home every night, this one actually fits that description and he finds he's not as quick to corrupt. Yet when Nick places a hand on tall, dark and handsome's arm and squeezes, Louis feels his eyes narrow without intention and he's over there in a flash, laying a proprietary arm over the stranger's shoulder.

"Hey bro, think maybe you should come home. Mum's angry that you didn't do your homework," He interjects smoothly, smiling lazily at the boy whose eyes have widened comically.

Nick retracts his arm with raised eyebrows and Louis feels his smile deepen, crinkling around the corners of his blue eyes.

"How old are you Harry?" Nick questions the beautiful boy who suddenly has a name.

"Too young for you Nicholas," Louis informs him with a wink to show he's just teasing.

"I'm seventeen," Harry says, pouting adorably.

Louis covers the side of his mouth with one hand and whispers in an exaggerated aside to Nick.

"In other words, too young to be looking for hook ups in a bar."

Harry looks rather pissed now and he shakes Louis' arm off, his green eyes flashing angrily as he looks Louis up and down, assessing. Whoops, Louis thinks, didn't mean to put him off entirely. However he's pleasantly surprised when Harry's eyes linger on his rather shapely hips and defined abdominals, his cheeks heating a little as he meets Louis' openly amused gaze.

"Well I'll be going then. Get him home safe," Nick warns with a pointed finger, as though he hadn't been planning on taking Harry home himself a few minutes earlier.

Louis gives him an impatient smile, just waiting for him to abandon the task so he can maybe, perhaps, pick up his slack. Yet when Louis turns inward to face Harry, he feels Nick's arm on his bicep and turns around to find a suspicious look on the older man's face.

"Louis, don't you have a whole heap of sisters? I swear you told me that-"

"He never talks about me. We weren't on the best of terms for most of my life. He tends to pretend I don't exist," Harry cuts in, wrapping an arm around Louis' waist and squeezing.

Louis fights the shiver running through him at the younger boy's touch and tosses a smirk in his direction.

"Exactly. He's an absolute head case, better not to mention him really."

"Ah...there is definitely some weird tension between you...so I'm just going to..."

"Great idea," Harry responds, his eyes never leaving Louis.'

"Excellent," Louis agrees.

They both hear an awkward cough-laugh and then Nick disappears and Louis is all alone with the child model.

"Nick's going to tell everybody I'm sleeping with my brother," Louis offers with raised eyebrows, as he moves to face Harry, leaning towards him across the bar.

"Maybe you should be."

The comment is delivered with plenty of bravado but Louis notices the shuffling of Harry's boot clad feet and the cautious flicker of fear behind his eyes.

"I don't sleep with little boys, young Harold."

"I told you, I'm-"

"Seventeen, yeah I got it," Louis rolls his eyes, "and I'm 21. You're too young. You're a virgin...at least as far as males go...am I right? This is your first gay bar?"

Harry begins to bluster, his cheeks turning the same shade of red as his lips and it's hopelessly endearing.

"Who the hell do you...what the...who even are you?" He finishes with, his face creasing as he hears the words he's just spat out.

Louis can't help himself. He reaches up and tugs on a particular wayward curl and his lips curl upward as Harry's eyes flutter closed against his will.

"I'm Louis William Tomlinson. I'm the guy your mother warned you about Harold," Louis says, scaling up the snark as he lets his fingers trail down to Harry's collar bones where he smooths his hand across them.

Harry reaches up and removes his hand with flared nostrils but he still looks a little torn.

"My name is Harry. Harry Styles. Not Harold or young Harold or any other variation," He warns.

Louis strokes an imaginary beard.

"Hmm," he says playfully, "how about Curly....Curly?"

Harry shakes his head, his curls tickling his cheeks but his mouth is turned up with amusement and Louis knows it would be simple to seduce him. Harry's hand is still around his wrist and Louis embarrassingly jerks a little when Harry runs his thumb across the start of the vein that runs from the base of his hand through to his elbow.

Harry's watching him again and biting his lip. Louis is usually unapologetically arrogant about his good looks. He knows that his red jeans accentuate his best feature; his arse and that the loose black singlet that exposes his tattoos and muscles tends to draw a crowd. He knows the quiff is just twink enough to draw the eyes of the younger boys but that his "it is what it is" tattoo and reasonable amount of stubble ensures the older crowd isn't entirely put off. It's true, Louis can usually have his pick of blokes on a Thursday night at his favourite bar. However Harry is so impressionable and idealistic, he can tell, that it throws him off balance. Louis' not quite sure if he wants to see the darkening of desire in Harry's eyes or something more substantial. It frightens him. Louis never craves respect, Louis craves a good lay only.

"Come home with me," he blurts out with panic.

"What for?" Harry questions him with a furrowed brow.

"Well what were you going to do tonight? Stay with someone right? You can't go home now, you can't stay here. So stay with me."

Louis says this all very quickly, not giving himself a chance to question his own invitation.

"I don't even know you."

Harry looks complete bewildered and rightly so. First, Louis tells him he's too young then he asks him to come home with him. Idiot.

"You don't know Nick either. You were planning on sleeping at a stranger's house tonight. I'm offering you the same...just with slightly different benefits," Louis says with what he hopes is a kind smile.

"What kind of benefits?"

Harry wriggles his eyebrows suggestively and Louis can't help the small spurt of laughter that breaks through his closed mouth. This boy is ridiculous, he thinks. Harry's eyes are blown wide as he watches and Louis feels a little self conscious.

"What?"

"You're very beautiful," Harry sighs and it sounds...disappointed.

"About the benefits..." Louis trails off, avoiding eye contact, his stomach jumping like he is in fact a prepubescent boy.

"Yes," Harry encourages him, like an over excited golden retriever.

"I won't sleep with you but...well, I know you haven't but...what have you....what experience.." Louis feels like an idiot, trying to find a way to ask a question that normally wouldn't bother him in the slightest.

What on earth is going on?

"I've never done anything with a guy," Harry admits and when Louis looks up, he finds that Harry has sucked his whole bottom lip into his mouth and is chewing on it nervously.

"Hey," Louis whispers, gently cupping Harry's chin, "it's okay."

"It's embarrassing," Harry sighs.

"I was eighteen Harry and very awkward my first time. Now look at me, I'm pretty much a Casanova," Louis says with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

He's still holding Harry's chin but he lets go as Harry tilts his head down to look more directly into his eyes, his cheeks dimpling with a breathtaking smile. Louis' breath gets caught in his throat.

"You're ridiculous," Harry chuckles.

"Funny, I would have said the same about you. Has anybody ever told you your legs are too long for your body?"

This just inspires further laughter and Louis kind of loves the sound. He leans forward and whispers exactly that in Harry's ear. Louis' not flirting with a seventeen year old, he's not. He's just...having a bit of fun. He's entitled to it.

"Back to the benefits," Harry breathes.

Louis draws back with a cautious smile on his pursed lips.

"I'll kiss you. Once. But...not here. Come home with me," he says, sliding his arm around Harry and tugging a little.

Harry towers over him and it's a little disconcerting given their ages. He responds to Louis' touch by grabbing him by the waist also and stepping closer.

"What if I don't want to kiss you?"

Louis is more than a little taken aback. He'd been so sure....

"I do," Harry corrects and Louis' heart picks up in his chest, "but don't assume. When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me."

The relief makes Louis a little crazy and his laughter is loud and uncontrolled before he reigns it in, rolling his eyes in a much cooler manner.

"Ridiculous," he mutters.

"Says the boy who just laughed loud enough for the whole bar to hear... then tried to act like he didn't," Harry contends with raised eyebrows and damn it if that sudden confidence and willingness to argue isn't attractive.

"Man, not boy." Louis corrects pathetically.

Harry is the one to roll his eyes now.

"Let's get out of here."

Louis tugs on Harry's shirt to get him to follow.

"I thought you'd never ask," Harry says with a fake southern drawl, fluttering his eyelashes indecently.

Louis giggles and then quickly turns on his heel, pushing his way through the people, trying to pretend he didn't just make that sound. Harry is hot on his heels and he leans forward, his breath hot against Louis' neck as he whispers into his ear.

"I heard that."

Harry might just be the end of Louis. Why is that so exhilarating?

.....

"So this is it," Louis announces, spreading his arms wide as he walks backward through his apartment.

His apartment is a whole lot of stainless steel furniture complimented by mostly black rugs, a black leather couch and a few rather expensive paintings. Harry looks around with wide eyes, pausing to stare at one thing or another every few moments.

"What do you do? I mean how did you-"

"Afford this?" Louis finishes for him, "I'm studying Drama at uni but I inherited a fuck load of money from my grandparents. Thought I better put it to good use and buy this bachelor pad. What do you think?"

"It's," Harry pauses, his Adam's apple bobbing, "very clean."

Louis' face creases in response and Harry crosses the floor and grabs his shoulder.

"Sorry. No I just meant like....it's not very homey. It's kind of...lonely," Harry explains, his eyes caressing Louis' face in a way that makes him very much uncomfortable.

"Stop the psycho babble now please. I am NOT lonely. Trust me."

Louis is adamant. Harry's face softens further and he squeezes Louis' shoulder.

"I do."

"Well then," Louis says, pulling Harry's hand off his shoulder.

He runs his own hand up Harry's arm and then cups the back of his neck, eyeing Harry's mouth with relish.

"So we're doing this now?" Harry gulps visibly, any sign of bravado vanishing instantly as he places a trembling hand on Louis' hip.

Louis takes this as a sign to take control and grabs Harry's waist with his other hand, pulling his body snug against Louis' own. Louis' pectorals rest just below Harry's but he has to tilt his head back to accommodate Harry's height. Although he'd never let anyone call him small, in this moment Louis kind of finds their height difference rather hot. He uses his grip on Harry's neck as leverage as he leans up and whispers in Harry's ear.

"Don't be scared. I'm going to kiss you, softly at first, until you get your bearings. Then I will ask for a little more and you will give me permission but only because it's what you want and then...then I will kiss you so thoroughly, you'll never recover."

When Louis leans back down, Harry's pupils are fully dilated and his breaths are coming out in short gasps. Louis takes that as his cue and pushes up on the balls of his feet, simply nipping at Harry's lips at first. Harry secures an arm around his waist supporting him and Louis smiles gratefully, slowly brushing a soft, teasing kiss against his lips in response. There's a shivery, buzzing sensation when their lips touch that Louis' never felt before and when Harry squeezes him, fitting his mouth over his top lip and sucking gently, he trembles a little, as though he were the one being kissed for the first time.

But Louis' not one to relinquish control and he tuts against Harry's mouth before returning the favour and sucking Harry's bottom lip between his own, swapping between sucking and nibbling as Harry's fingers dig into his hip pleasantly. The moment turns sweet and rather intimate as their lips push and pull at each other and it's almost too much for Louis when Harry's mouth parts and he lets his own tongue meet Harry's in an awkward but not unpleasant tangle.

Louis wants to ravish Harry completely. He places his hands on Harry's hips, never breaking the kiss and backs him into his room, pushing him gently down onto the bed and straddling his waist without hesitation. He rocks gently against Harry, their jean clad cocks rubbing tightly against each other with every rotation of Louis' hips as Harry moans into his mouth and Louis sucks on his tongue a little in response. Harry grabs his arse, pulling him further into his lap as he sits up more, leaning back against the bed frame. Louis continues to grind against him for a few moments, kissing him for all his worth before some sense of awareness slowly starts to come back and he brings his leg across and off Harry's lap and settles down beside him on the bed.

"That was a hell of a kiss," Harry breathes raggedly.

When Louis looks at him, his lips are swollen and his cheeks are flushed but the real kicker is his eyes, all lit up and sparkling with excitement.

"Bedtime," Louis says, avoiding the question that's in Harry's eyes now.

Why had he taken it so much further than he mean to? He couldn't answer that; he didn't know. Harry moves to slide under the covers now but Louis stops him with a hand to his chest.

"No young grasshopper. You're out there," he says, pointing out the door to the leather couch, "there's bedding stuff under the couch."

Harry shrinks under his harsh gaze and Louis has to swallow down the guilt. What more does he expect? Louis is saving him from a night spent on the streets. He just gave him some experience and damn it if it wasn't amazing but he's not about to spoon him too. Louis doesn't spoon. He especially doesn't spoon seventeen year old virgins who look like Harry Styles.

"But I thought-" Harry tries.

"I told you I wasn't going to sleep with you. I meant that in both ways," Louis cuts him off.

Harry swallows noisily, avoiding his eyes and then leaves the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. Louis passes a hand across his face and then strips out of his clothes, crawling back into bed in just his briefs.

He gets up again with a loud sigh when he hears a thump from the living room and the sound of someone cussing softly. He opens the door to find Harry also in nothing but briefs, the doona he'd been using crumpled haphazardly on the floor. He sits there with splayed legs, looking adorably rumpled and seriously cross with himself, rubbing what appears to be a sore spot on his curly head.

"What happened?" Louis asks, hoping he sounds more impatient than fond.

He also hopes that his lower region will stop reacting to the sight of semi-naked Harry before it gets embarrassing. Harry looks up at him but his speech cuts off as he takes Louis' body in.

"I-"

"You?" Louis prompts, widening his stance because okay, maybe he's enjoying Harry's gaze on him a little too much.

"I fell...off the couch. I hit my head on the table." Harry answers rapidly now, looking near terrified that Louis will bite his head off.

Louis bites down on a smile as he shakes his head with exasperation.

"You are a head case. Now I suggest you go to sleep, you've got school tomorrow pumpkin."

Harry sends him a withering glare and Louis is perhaps a little proud of him.

"Oh and stop perving sunshine," Louis chirps, delighted to note the way Harry bows his head a little, pulling the doona around him in a defensive gesture.

"Night Harold," Louis sings as he slips into his room and shuts the door.

But that rough, rumbling voice calling out to him stops him in his tracks.

"Wasn't the only one perving. Night Lewis."

Louis groans and face plants on his bed, wondering who thought it was fair to plant Harry Styles in his his direct line of vision in that bar tonight. Whoever it was, he definitely wants to have words with them.... to strangle them..or thank them. Louis is horrified by his own train of thought. He's letting a clumsy, long legged Brunette tie him up in knots for no discernible reason. He might as well call himself Edward Cullen and go suck on Harry's...oh god no, the images. Louis groans aloud once more and then screws his eyes up, willing himself to sleep instead of thinking about sucking love bites into Harry's pulse point.


	2. Chapter 2

“I kicked him out first thing. He was all disgruntled and pleading, asking when he could see me again. Told him I didn’t _want_ to see him again,” Louis complains to his best mates, knocking back the rest of his drink immediately afterwards.

Liam gives him a disparaging look while Zayn just flashes his co-conspirator grin, drawing Liam close into his body when he notes the look on his face.

  
“You could have been a little more compassionate,” Liam scolds, shaking his head.

  
Zayn squeezes the side of Liam’s waist and plants a kiss on the side of his face, making Liam’s face soften from disapproval to what Louis can only describe as a sickening display of adoration.

“Hush babe. This boy is not Lou’s responsibility and even if he was, he did let him stay instead of sending him out onto the streets. What else was he supposed to do? Pretend to be into the kid only to break his heart down the track?” Zayn says mindfully.

Liam grumbles but there’s no heart in it as he sneaks a hand inside the back of Zayn’s leather jacket.

“You know what you two remind me of?” Louis says with an evil smile.

Neither of the guys replies, just waiting for the inevitable sarcastic comment.

“That time Doris and Ernest spewed AND shit themselves in the car and Mum forced me to clean it up with baby wipes.”

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest big brother in the whole damn world,” Zayn retaliates, reaching across their table to pinch his cheek.

Louis’ known Zayn and Liam for as long as they’ve been in love really. He met and slept with both of them (not at the same time, he should add) when he was just starting uni before realising what genuinely fun and kind blokes they were and making mates out of them. It was a mere few months later that they were introduced and Louis had to start putting up with these sick shows of affection. Now nearly every Friday night is spent together at another gay bar, Train being their regular and their favourite. Though Louis loves a pint with his mates, he always ends up escaping their love fest halfway through to search for his next wet dream come true.

“So,” Zayn says, resting his forearms on the table, the bar stool beneath him wobbling just slightly, “what exactly does Harry look like?”

  
“Why?” Liam cuts in, “You interested?”

Zayn’s lips curl into an amused smile as he leans forward and captures Liam’s tightly drawn mouth before looking pointedly at a spot just behind Louis’ head. Liam’s eyes widen and then he laughs, grabbing Zayn’s hand and intertwining their fingers. Louis’ eyes narrow with suspicion.

“Does he happen to be a curly haired, long legged babe?” Zayn says with mirth, squeezing Liam’s hand just to reassure him.

Louis’ face creases with confusion for a moment before he whips his head around to find Harry having just entered the bar, dressed in some strangely alternative patterned shirt, wearing a matching head scarf and the requisite tight jeans, his eyes narrowed with intent as he scans the room. Crap, Louis thinks, the gorgeous child is looking for me. When Harry’s eyes finally settle on him, he smiles delightedly and Louis groans aloud to the amusement of Zayn and Liam who he finds have collapsed laughing upon each other when he turns back around.

“How did he know where to find you?” Zayn snorts.

“I have no idea,” Louis says through gritted teeth, “but I must tend to the child.”

“Make sure he doesn’t spit up on you like the twins,” Liam says with a wink.

Zayn lets out a loud bark of surprised laughter at Liam’s sass and Liam looks quite pleased with himself for drawing out the sound. Louis just rolls his eyes before stalking off in Harry’s direction. By this point, Harry has made his way to the bar and has just ordered a beer. Louis sidles up beside him and leans in to whisper in his ear.

“Look how cool I am, using my fake ID to buy drinks and stalk my little crush. Don’t you win the prize of coolness,” he says sarcastically, making sure to breath hotly against Harry’s neck as he pulls away.

Harry visibly squirms.

“I don’t have a crush!"

“You’re stalking me,” Louis says dryly.

“I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Well no, but let me guess...this isn’t the first place you checked. I saw you looking for me when you came in Harold. My mates over there think it’s hilarious, you falling over yourself just to hook up with me.”

Louis points to Liam and Zayn with his thumb who are both watching the interaction with expectant grins.

“You’re incredibly arrogant,” Harry grumbles, taking a sip of his beer.

The liquid pools slightly in one of the shallow parts of his bottom lip and Louis’ self-control flies out the window as he leans forward and sucks Harry’s lip into his mouth, savouring the taste of the familiar liquid and perhaps the taste of Harry as he draws his tongue slowly across the entirely too fleshy lip. Harry smells very manly and clean cut, yet sweet at the same time like a deep, heady aftershave mingling with what might be strawberry shampoo. Louis pretends not to inhale deeply as he reluctantly draws away.

Harry’s eyes are unfocused and dazed and when Louis glances surreptitiously back at his mates, even Zayn is eyeing him with disapproval. He knows why. It’s not as if the age difference is that significant. It’s more the fact that Harry’s so clearly inexperienced and Louis is not the type to gently show him the ropes. Zayn and Liam know this just as well as he does. Still, he can’t resist having a little fun.

“Rightly so,” Louis grins.

“What?”

Harry reaches up to readjust his head scarf but Louis stills his hand reaching up on tiptoes, to remove the piece of offensive head gear that happens to restrict Harry’s best feature. Not that Louis cares. It’s just that the head scarf is ridiculously underwhelming when compared with the way those chocolate locks fall around his face, all cherub like and far too enticing.

“You said I was arrogant. I think I’m entitled to be,” he explains, stuffing the head scarf into Harry’s front pocket.

Harry barely seems to register the movement.

“Do you really not want to see me again?” He blurts out randomly, his eyes wide with fear.

Louis’ heart pulses a little in his chest with fondness. He ignores it.

“I really do not want to see you again Harold. The fact that you’re here is a mere nuisance.”

Louis leans back against the bar, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back to expose the clean line of his throat and the stubble across his jaw.

“Liar,” Harry mouths against his ear.

Louis’ slow breath stutters and Harry must take this as encouragement as he drags his mouth down Louis’ neck and then slowly back in the reverse direction, pausing to bite down on the sensitive spot just below his jaw. Louis lets out a rush of air at the sensation and then abruptly pushes Harry away.

“Go home boy wonder,” he says softly, refusing to look in his direction.

“Quit with the comments about my age. It’s only four years and I’m almost an adult. And Louis, you kissed me, you sucked on me first. Don’t be a hypocrite,” Harry growls.

The tightly controlled anger in his tone as he says those words, ‘you sucked on me,’ does funny things to Louis’ nether regions but he files it away for later. It might be of more use when he can actually do something about it.

Louis can barely think straight and he feels near possessed as he abruptly decides on a course of action. He spins around to face Harry, grabs his waist and slide his hands around to pull Harry close by the small of his back. Harry let’s out a choked noise of surprise as Louis covers his mouth and sucks on his tongue greedily, panting with need all the while. He then withdraws slowly, brushing his lips against Harry’s a few more times before he lets go completely and removes Harry’s arms from where they had wound themselves around his neck.

“Now leave,” Louis says, keeping his tone cold and displaced.

“I-“

“I can want you one minute and want you gone the next. That’s what I just proved to you. Now go."

Harry’s green eyes harden and he balls his fists but then he seems to think better of it, letting the air escape his mouth in an angry gust before turning and storming out of the bar. When Louis returns to the table, Liam and Zayn are both looking at him with intense curiosity.

“What on earth-“Zayn starts.

“Don’t ask,” Louis mutters, “I don’t know.”

“You know, if you really wanted to, you could-“ Liam tries.

“I don’t want to. I don’t do that kind of thing. Now let’s just get drunk yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, clamping a hand down on his shoulder.

Liam opens his mouth to argue but Louis stares him down until finally he sighs and picks up his drink, raising it up as the other guys do the same.

“Here’s to getting pissed,” he announces, winking at Zayn as he runs a hand across his thigh.

“Here’s to getting you pissed and then getting you home very quickly,” Zayn offers, nudging his beer against Liam’s with a smirk.

Louis groans and then knocks his drink roughly against theirs.

“Here’s to leaving the bedroom eyes in the bedroom.”

Liam and Zayn both laugh far too happily and then they all throw their drinks back in sync. Louis closes his eyes as the liquid slides down his throat, not thinking about the taste of beer on Harry’s lips or the feel of Harry’s mouth on his neck. He’s not thinking about Harry Styles at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot the reference :D Five hour break between lectures at uni = optimal writing time :) Although it is a tad strange writing about some of this stuff with other people no more than a few feet away :P

Louis’ eyebrows pull down as he tilts his head, reading the label that’s written in some strange language he doesn’t recognise. Surely they could provide a translation if they were going to decide to market their product in the UK. Sainsbury’s needs to get their shit together because they’re seriously lacking in the noodle department and Louis is not above acting like a shit and asking one of the clueless employees to translate the label given because it’s his only option at this point.

“Louis,” chirps a rather deep voice in Louis’ ear as he squints down at the box, still searching for any sign of English.

Louis' eyebrows furrow both at the owner of the voice and the fact that a voice so deep is still able to able to chirp like a newborn bird. It's not endearing.

“What do you want?” He grunts, not in the mood.

It’s been a week since he last saw Harry and he has very intentionally been avoiding him which has been a pain. He’s had to diversify his tastes as far as gay bars go and all that extra effort to get laid and the absence of his favourite brand of noodles has left him feeling more than a little testy.

Harry grabs his shoulder and spins him around, plucking the box from his hands as he stares down at it intently too now, a little crease forming at the top of his nose. It’s kind of cute if Louis’ being honest but he’s choosing not to notice this nor that Harry’s dressed in an adorable arrangement of blue and red checker flannel, his sleeves pushed up to reveal a rather nice set of muscled forearms and dark brown chinos that look far too refined to match the rest of his arrangement.

“They’re chicken flavour,” Harry informs him, winking exaggeratedly.

Louis gives him a long look.

“You don’t read…whatever language this is.”

“How do you know?”

Harry pouts at him, his chin jutting forward in challenge. Louis sighs loudly and ignores him, placing the box back on the shelf.

“What are you up to jailbait? Getting some groceries for mummy?” He teases, smirking outright at Harry’s displeased expression.

Louis walks through the aisle, dragging his fingers along the side of the shelf as Harry trails behind. He rounds on Louis after a few moments, caging him in against the shelf and blocking his means of escape with muscled arms that extend either side.

“You’re not half as funny as you think you are,” Harry murmurs.

Louis can feel his blue eyes have blown wide but he works against the weird tingling sensation in his extremities as he offers Harry a look of outrage, pushing lightly against his abdominals to get him to retract his arms.

“That’s entirely false. So naïve little one,” Louis tuts, pulling on a spiky curl atop Harry’s head.

Harry’s eyelashes do that fluttering thing again and he grips Louis’ hip, attempting to pull him close but Louis’ not having it, striding away quickly in the direction of the cold section.

“You’re a tease,” Harry shouts after him, drawing a few outraged looks from some of the more conservative old codgers and parents who seemingly shield their children from this display of debauchery.

He trots after Louis and whispers in his ear as Louis stares at the wide range of cold products looking for anything that he could turn into a seemingly edible dish. It’s difficult. Truly it is. It was only the other night before he went out that Louis’ attempt at risotto ended with what looked like a gluggy mess of various dairy products mixed in with some thoroughly dried out chicken and shrivelled vegetables. Zayn had come over for dinner, against his will, arguing that it would be simpler just to get takeout. Yet ever since Louis had moved out from his mum’s to go to uni in London, he’d relied on fast food and he thought it was about time he learned to fend for himself. Zayn clearly didn’t agree and when he walked in on Louis’ disaster of a dinner being served onto plates, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips and a cautious expression on his angular face, he burst into laughter only punctuated by his favourite refrain of ‘I told you so.’ They had both agreed it tasted only marginally better than the pasta he’d attempted and ruined just a week ago and Louis had upended both of their plates into the rubbish without much delay. He shakes off the traumatic memories now, tuning in to Harry’s soft voice in his ear.

“I said, you’re a tease.”

“Tommo the tease, to be exact,” Louis corrects flippantly.

“You’re known for it?”

“Well it’s not as if I tease without reward. Usually. You’re the only exception,” Louis turns to face him, smiling arrogantly as Harry’s eyes track up and down his body, lingering on the places where his jeans stretch tight across his legs.

“Fantastic,” Harry sighs.

“So what are you doing here?” He asks a beat later when he realises Louis’ not going to initiate the conversation.

“I asked you first,” Louis replies childishly.

Harry apparently agrees as he rolls his eyes.

“Zayn texted me. Said you’d probably be here trying to find the best way to avoid poisoning yourself with your own cooking,” he shrugs, way too blasé for somebody who’s just confessed his intrusive ways.

“Zayn?!” Louis squeaks, “How on earth do you know Zayn? Why is he texting you?!”

Harry’s grin tugs at the corners of his mouth which under any other circumstances would be ridiculously attractive but right now Louis is in panic mode. This child…or man…or whatever he is, is insinuating himself into Louis’ life without his permission.

“Saw him at Dayton’s the other night. He seemed a bit surprised when I approached him but we got to talking and he really hit it off with Niall and then Liam came in and-“

  
“Who the fuck is Niall?” Louis breathes out angrily, “And Liam’s involved now? For fuck’s sake, I need new friends.”

“Niall’s my best mate,” Harry hums, seemingly unbothered.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing talking to MY best friends when I want nothing to do with you?” Louis demands.

Harry flinches a little under his glare but still looks relatively unflustered as he leans down and tugs Louis’ body forward by the belt loop.

“You may have decided you don’t want anything to do with me but your friends happen to think otherwise. Although they did warn me you’re kind of a jerk sometimes.”

Harry winks at him once more. Of all the moments to flirt with him, honestly. Ridiculous curly haired boy.

“And what did you say?”

Louis is only a slight shade of curious, leaning in to study Harry’s green, green eyes that don’t waver from their obtrusive stare.

“Told them I could handle it,” he says, darting his tongue out to wet his stunningly obscene mouth.

Louis arches his eyebrows and then wraps a hand around the collar of Harry’s shirt, pulling him down so that he can whisper in his ear.

“Can you handle my tongue tracing the veins of your cock as you squirm beneath me, my hand pressed into your hip as I hold you down and take your swollen member into my mouth, sucking gently until you plead for more and I take you down further, so far in fact that the tip hits the back of my throat and maybe I gag a little but then you’re fucking my mouth and I’m groaning around you, my voice box resonating around your dick. Soon the pleasure gets too much, so much that you still yourself, grip my hair and start to shudder, just trying to stall your release but when I urge for you to move, you come right down my throat. And you feel like you’ll just keep coming as the aftershocks rock your system. You’re completely wrecked and I promise you you’re the BEST thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Louis’ eyes are only just open as he describes the scene, reaching up to pull on the ends of Harry’s hair as he thinks of Harry pulling on his. He forces Harry away from him as he finishes and finds the green of Harry’s eyes almost completely swallowed by the dark of his pupils and notes a definitively large bulge down the front of Harry’s trousers. Sweet, sweet triumph, he thinks. So why does he feel nearly just as worked up?

“Can you handle that?” Louis breathes raggedly…for effect.

“I-what? I mean-“

Louis halts his speech with a finger to his lips. Harry’s lips part beneath his finger and his tongue darts out to trace the edge. God, the boy is incorrigible. Louis draws his hand away quickly.

“Now what exactly did you hope to achieve by following me here? Surely you’re expected at home.”

“I-well not until later….I…I thought I could…” Harry is still quite obviously, very flustered and Louis really doesn’t have time for this.

“Spit it out.”

“I thought I could make you dinner. I make stuff for myself all the time. I invented cheese-“

“You invented cheese?” Louis intones with a raised eyebrow and an amused quirk of his lips.

Surprisingly, Harry’s lips pull back to expose a grin and his cheeks push upward, exposing those tell-tale dimples.

“Well…no,” he responds, still smiling brilliantly, “but I did invent cheese casserole.”

Louis is once again curious against his better judgement.

“What exactly does that entail?”

Harry doesn’t answer, instead just picks up a packet of grated cheese and some sour cream and then dips into one of the isles, quickly plucking things off the shelves and dumping them in the basket that he grabbed from god knows where. It's like he’s been trained in competitive shopping.

“Harrrry,” Louis whines, trailing after him.

Since when did he trail after anybody?

“You’ll find out if you have dinner with me.”

Louis opens his mouth to protest but Harry quickly turns cups his hand over his mouth, preventing any and all attempts at speech.

“It’s not a date,” he says quickly, removing his hand, “I just want to ensure you don’t kill yourself. If you’re as bad as the many stories Zayn and Liam told me suggest, you just might. And okay…yes… I might get the added bonus of…getting to know you.”

Louis is rather tempted, given that he’s barely eaten all day and it’s been too long since he had a nice home cooked meal. Harry must notice this as he grabs Louis’ hand, squeezing lightly with the most dopey, idiotic smile on his face that Louis just wants to punch him for being so innocently happy. Punch him. Or kiss him. Whatever. Same thing.

“Pleaseeee,” Harry whines, the corners of his mouth twitching as his eyes sparkle indecently in the fluorescent lights.

“This isn’t a date okay? It’s really not. I don’t do that. And as for the other stuff, I’m not about do that with you either. Are we clear?” Louis says sternly.

“Yes sir,” Harry responds, still grinning.

Louis’ breathing stutters a little at the address and Harry’s eyes widen as he notices before they shift downward to his mouth.

“Don’t,” Louis warns him.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry says, all polite indigination.

Louis scoffs and then pulls him toward the counter by the bicep.

“C’mon boy wonder, you’ve got a dinner to make.”

“You’re rather handsy for someone who wants nothing to do with me.”

Harry’s tone is remarkably triumphant.

“Hush,” Louis grumbles.

Yet his resolve falters a little when Harry turns puppy dog eyes his way, pouting as if Louis just threatened to extinguish the lives of millions of kittens across the world. Louis sends him a soft, private smile just to reassure him that he’s not about to run in the other direction…as much as he’d like to.

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not about making Harry happy, it’s about getting a good meal and maybe a half decent conversation. If his eyes linger a little too long on Harry’s pert, perfectly shaped bum as he moves through to the cash register, that’s for him to know and for everyone else to never, ever find out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno if this is any good :S Please let me know x

“Can you even cook?” Louis asks sceptically, leaning back against the stainless steel bench.

“Have you ever even used this?” Harry counters, waving the wooden spoon around.

Louis is baffled.

“Why would I use that? Normal spoon works just fine for mixing.”

“No wonder your risotto ended up a gluggy mess,” Harry mutters.

“Zayn is the devil incarnate. I could tell you plenty of stories about him and Liam. One time, I walked in on them fucking and Zayn had his leg wrapped around Liam’s-“

“Ugh,” Harry groans, turning away from the stove to glare at Louis, “Do I need to hear about this right before we eat?”

Louis just grins and reaches over to dunk his finger in the cheesy mixture to have a sneaky taste test. Instead he finds himself squealing girlishly and ripping his hand away as the hot cheese sizzles against his skin.

“Ughnnn,” he groans, rubbing the burned spot tenderly.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks for the sympathy,” Louis snaps.

Harry sighs, raising his eyes to the heavens as if to say, “Whatever will I do with you?”

“Come here then.”

Louis shields his hand, his eyebrows furrowing as he considers Harry’s outstretched hand.

“Louis, give me your damn hand.”

Louis offers his hand reluctantly and Harry takes it, pulling him over to the sink and turning the cold water on full blast as he grips Louis' sore hand and rubs the reddened, tender skin gently with his thumb. Louis has to admit, it does significantly ease the pain. He's not sure if it's the cool water or Harry's thumb though and that's disturbing. Harry rips off a piece of paper towel from the stand in the corner of the bench and wraps Louis' finger in it, his cute little tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he fashions a makeshift bandage that doesn’t fall apart when Louis pulls away.

“Thanks,” Louis says belatedly, quite aware that he sounds like a disgruntled child.

“And you call me a child,” Harry says with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re gonna lose ‘em back there soon.”

Harry’s gone back to stirring his deathly cheese concoction (okay so Louis kind of has a vendetta against the thing but it’s not without good reason) but he looks up with sparkling eyes.

“What?”

“If you roll your eyes one more time, they won’t roll back. Don’t you remember your mother teaching you that Harold? It’s not like it would have been a long time ago. I imagine she only taught you your ABC’s a few years back."

Louis winks to show he’s just teasing but Harry refuses to be placated, backing Louis up against the bench in the corner of his own kitchen, a murderous expression on his face.

  
“One more word Tomlinson and you’ll be having gluggy rice and dry chicken,” Harry threatens, jabbing Louis’ chest with his pointer finger.

Louis grabs it, smiling his most winning smile and watching with delight as Harry’s angry facial expression falters.

“As opposed to what, this cheese mousse?”

“Right,” Harry growls, “that’s it.”

Louis squeaks as Harry bends over him, encircling his waist with his arms and throwing him over his shoulder like he weighs no more than a feather. Harry plonks him down on the bench next to the stove and then steps back. Louis moves to push himself off the counter eyeing Harry with bewilderment but Harry puts an arm around his waist, holding him there.

“Harry, what on earth-“

“Shh. I’m proving you wrong,” Harry says adamantly.

Louis relaxes under Harry’s touch and Harry collects a small silver spoon, dunking it into the pot before handing it to Louis. Louis’ stomach does a hungry little flip but just as he’s about to shove the spoon in his mouth, Harry swipes it out of his hand.

“Christ,” he says, gently admonishing, “do you never think anything through?”

Louis frowns as Harry blows gently across the spoon before handing it back. Louis slowly licks away the spoonful while Harry watches him, something intense and rather intoxicating burning in his eyes. Louis has to admit, it’s good. Nothing too sophisticated but hey, Louis appreciates any meal that isn’t burnt beyond recognition and completely inedible.

“Okay Harold,” he hums, swinging his legs against the counter, “you happen to be an okay chef. But surely this can’t be good for you.”

Harry lays the spoon on the counter and then moves slowly into the space created by Louis’ legs, cupping Louis’ small hips with his large, warm hands. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the heat created by the stove and his curls are a little spikier from the exertion of the day. He looks kind of debauched and less like the 17 year old virgin Louis is beginning to expect. He looks like trouble.

“Sometimes the things you know are bad for you taste the sweetest,” Harry breathes, his mouth drawing closer.

Louis stills him with a firm hand pressed to his chest as he swallows the small pulse of desire. It’s not worth it. Harry might not seem like a seventeen year old when he’s cooking dinner and looking at Louis like he’d rather devour him, than the casserole but Louis knows better. Louis knows what’s it’s like to be young, horny and have no idea what it means to give it all away.

“And sometimes Harry, those things leave a bad taste in your mouth that you never quite get rid of,” he whispers bitterly.

Harry steps back when Louis begins to twitch with agitation but as Louis jumps off the counter and makes to leave the kitchen, Harry wraps a hand around his wrist and tugs until he turns back around.

“Please explain.”

Harry’s eyes are pleading and soft. He’s just so damn determined to know Louis and Louis doesn’t know quite what to make of it.

“I just….I gave it all away Harry. I know,” Louis swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “I know,” he tries again, “how much you want to have experiences and to find yourself through them.”

“But?” Harry asks because he’s not thick.

“But don’t do it with just anybody. Not the first time. I don’t know you but I just know….if somebody had been gentle with me….if I had waited, I dunno….maybe things would be different,” Louis mumbles, frowning at the kitchen tiles.

Harry’s silent for a while but when Louis looks up, Harry is simply studying him, his expression so intent that Louis feels utterly naked and not in the way he likes.

“It was fine,” he says quickly, “it doesn’t matter anymore. I didn’t cry over my first time. But you would. You would if it wasn’t right.”

Harry’s expression becomes darker as Louis speaks until his face is creased all over and his eyes are dark with something unpleasant. He reaches over and cups Louis’ face in his palms, his eyes shifting across from one blue eye to the other, as if reassuring Louis of something. Louis’ never been more at a loss to understand somebody else.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for Harold? I can assure you, I’ve had more than enough great sex to make up for it.”

A small sad smile graces Harry’s mouth before he draws away without another word and turns his attention back to the stove, doling out the casserole into bowls before carrying it to the small round table in the living room, leaving Louis to follow after him.

They stay mostly silent while they eat, both lost in their thoughts but when Harry stands and tries to collect the dishes, Louis squeezes his wrist and shakes his head, his mouth pursing a little from the difficulty of resisting the temptation to smile at Harry like a fond idiot. He drags Harry over to the couch and they sit facing each other, a little closer than necessary.

“Can we talk properly now?” Harry asks, his voice tinged with drowsiness, “S’ part of the deal.”

“Nope. You said that was a bonus for you. Getting to know me that is. I never agreed.”

Harry pouts, laying his head against the back of the couch, his eyes watering a little, from tiredness most likely but it adds to the whole effect. Louis reaches across to pinch Harry’s pouted lips together before attempting to smooth them out.

“Stop that,” he huffs, half-heartedly pushing Harry’s knee.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

One side of Harry’s mouth pulls up in a lopsided grin and Louis just shakes his head, entirely exasperated. Entirely endeared.

“Fine. Ask away Harold,” he sighs finally.

Louis leans his own head against the couch and now that their eyes are at the same level, he notes that Harry’s have a few jagged stripes of murky blue around the pupil.

“Tell me about your ‘reputation,’” Harry encourages, his eyelids drooping.

“Well…I fuck who I want when I want wherever I want and they like it. They talk. Sometimes they say shit, you know. Sometimes they just get the wrong idea.” Louis eyes Harry meaningfully but the younger boy doesn’t react, “They think sometimes that a fuck means I give a shit. I don’t. I’m always up for a mutual good time but that’s all it is.”

  
Harry chews on his bottom lip. Louis wants to tug it out from underneath Harry’s teeth just to stop the cruel abuse of such a perfect mouth. So what? He can appreciate Harry’s finer features without completely losing his mind.

“So that’s why you didn’t want to see me again?”

“Don’t, Harold. Not didn’t. Present tense.”

“Really Louis? Is my company so bad? Don’t you like me at all?”

Harry’s voice is slightly higher and strained with insecurity and Louis can see the fresh faced seventeen year old shining through in this moment.

“Harry,” he scolds, “you know what this is. I let you make me dinner because I’m rather inept and you offered. It’s nothing more. I don’t even know you.”

“We can change that.”

Harry is sulking; pushing his cheek against the cold leather until his eye is squinted and there’s strange creases around his forehead from pressing so hard.

“I don’t want to know you,” Louis whispers, reaching across to rub the creased spot around Harry’s temple, perhaps slightly contradicting his own words, “I’d like to fuck you perhaps but I can’t.”

Harry blanches at this.

“Do you have to call it that all the time? Do you have to say it so viciously”

“Fucking? That’s what it is sunshine. Those people who claim to love or ‘make love’ or some shit are deluded. They get fucked in the end too. At least when I get fucked, I know it’s coming and soon enough, I’m coming too.”

Louis can’t help the bitter, pissed off edge to his voice or the hardened cynicism in his eyes when Harry looks at him with a disgusting show of pity.

“Didn’t you ever believe-“

“Yes, I believed in fairy tales. When I was sixteen and the worst kind of twink, I thought I’d meet a man and make babies just like my mum did. Then, my step dad left, I lost my virginity to a meth addict who didn’t care to prep me and fuck, I had no idea about things like that. Then I started to hear things around town.”

Harry’s eyes beckon Louis to continue, so he does, letting the words fall from his mouth, spilling haunted memories and dark anger across the couch where it oozes onto the floor and slides beneath.

“It was what you’d expect really in a place like Donny. People aren’t so terrible but they stick to their status quo. Got called “that gay fucker” more often than my own name. So that’s what I became. Spent my weekends in London kipping with one night stands whenever I could, kipping with mates whenever I couldn’t. But you know what?”

“What?” Harry’s voice is muted now.

“I grew up and realised that it’s fuck or be fucked and hell, maybe I can stand to benefit from both. Maybe I like both but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let anybody screw with my heart. You’ll learn that Harold. Your first time should be and can be different from mine, that’s for sure but just don’t expect all your dreams to come true. Don’t expect to meet somebody who will think the sun shines out of your ass forever,” Louis kind of spits the last few words, something angry and desperate beating in his chest.

“That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” Harry says boldly, “I think you want it. I think you want it so much it’s hurting you to pretend you don’t.”

“Want what?” Louis scoffs, turning his head away, “To wake up in thirty years or so with somebody who sticks around because why? They’re afraid to be alone or they think it’s what they should do. Why would I want that?”

Harry wraps his hands around Louis’ neck and pulls his face around, his hands gliding down to rest in the hollows of his shoulders, his thumbs smoothing circles into the deepest parts. Louis is helpless to protest because the anger dies down a little with Harry’s touch and it’s been so long since somebody touched him like this; with no ulterior motive and no other intention other than to make Louis feel good. In fact, Louis’ not sure anybody has ever touched him like this.

“You’re right, nobody wants that Louis. But tell me this. If you could wake up beside somebody every morning who kissed you even though you had morning breath and made you breakfast in the nude. If you could ‘fuck’ somebody who wanted to set every nerve in your body on fire because they wanted you, more than anybody has ever wanted you because you’re the most desirable image they could possibly conjure. Because even when they're sleeping beside you, they dream of you. If you could make silly faces across the room with someone and kiss someone just to be close to them and have someone wrap you up in their arms because they can’t bear to let you go…wouldn’t you want that?”

Harry’s thumbs have stilled on Louis’ shoulders but his hands still rest there and they feel too thick and heavy suddenly, as if Harry’s very presence is stifling him and keeping him grounded when he’d simply rather ascend to a higher plane. Louis’ tongue darts out to wet his lips, a nervous gesture, before he schools his expression into one of cold displacement.

“You don’t seem to get it. I just want to screw and screw and screw until they put me in the casket and wheel me away. That’s all. The rest is a pipe dream I don’t subscribe to,” he says coldly, shoving Harry’s hands away.

Harry looks far from deterred as he bounces up and down on the cushion a little, smiling just a touch knowingly, as though he’s seen something he shouldn’t have.

“I don’t believe you,” He sing-songs.

“Really?” Louis retorts. “Well do tell Harold. Tell me how you got to be this annoyingly bright person without a trace of bitterness.”

“First, that’s a good thing,” Harry says holding up a finger, his eyes shimmering with something that is frighteningly smug, “second, I’d love it if you used my actual name,” another finger goes up, “and third, I thought you didn’t want to know me.”

Louis opens his mouth to respond, to defend himself or do anything to debunk Harry’s theory that he gives a crap about him but nothing comes out. Not because he does give a crap…but because he’s curious. He can’t bring himself to backtrack now when he’s so close to putting some of the puzzle pieces together. He wants to know what makes this boy tick.

“I’m curious,” Louis says honestly, his lips twitching, “you’re annoyingly persistent. How does somebody end up like that?”

“I was raised by professional football trainers,” Harry says by way of explanation, flashing his teeth.

“Very funny,” Louis rolls his eyes, “but since you brought it up, who do you support? Bearing in mind this is a make-or-break moment if I were even to consider being friends with you.”

Harry eyes light up at the word friends and Louis smiles softly in response.

“Manchester United,” Harry says, biting his lip nervously.

“And boy wonder scores,” Louis commentates, folding his arms across his body as they smile stupidly at each other across the couch.

“I wish you’d let me score for real,” Harry adds, a teasing glint in his eye.

Ah well, Louis can do him one better.

“I wish you’d get over me already.”

He’s only half joking but he reaches over and pinches Harry’s side just to make it clear he’s purposely being a jerk.

“Oh Louis, you’ll regret telling me to do that one day.”

Harry’s biting down on his smile a little and Louis can’t help but notice how very responsive is. Only ever one word away from breaking into that huge, heartbreaker smile that must make all his fellow students weak in the knees.

“Don’t think so Haz.”

“Haz?”

Harry reaches across and pushes Louis’ fringe away from his eyes where it had fallen after he stupidly pushed his head against the couch just like Harry had. Of course Harry’s hair looks indecently sexy, as though it were intentionally styled that way. Bloody child model.

“Mm, it’s easier to say. You’ll get over it.”

Louis tries for casual but he can’t help feeling he’s failed miserably when Harry’s foot nudges his on the couch and he jumps a little at the contact, inciting a huge smile from Harry.

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“Course you weren’t.”

“Golden retriever,” Louis adds under his breath.

Harry tilts his head quickly, his eyebrows meeting in the middle as he regards Louis with confusion.

“Excuse me?”

Louis shakes his head and then nudges Harry’s foot back with his own to distract him.

“Tell me why you’re so annoying.”

Harry looks slightly miffed and Louis feels an apology is in order. He scoots closer to Harry and then straddles his lap, wrapping his hands around either side of Harry’s jaw before leaning down and planting a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

“Please,” he says, letting his blue eyes penetrate Harry’s until he feels Harry’s jaw shiver slightly beneath his fingers, "you know what I meant."

Louis returns to his former position but Harry is still staring at him, all tense and completely still. Louis shoves his leg to get his attention away from his face but he just continues to stare.

“I don’t understand you,” Harry sighs eventually.

“That makes two of us.”

Louis grins at him, unabashed and after a moment more of silent, broody staring, Harry joins him.

“So….my story? Well it wasn’t all popsicles and fairy floss if that’s what you’re thinking but-“

“Oh popsicles and fairy floss. So that’s what was missing from my unhappy teenage years. Damn. If only I’d known,” Louis says theatrically, pushing his lips out in a pretend pout.

“Would you be so kind as to not to interrupt with your completely unnecessary sarcasm?” Harry asks with raised eyebrows.

Louis pulls back his lips to expose all of his teeth and flutters his eyelashes rapidly.

“Best behaviour, I promise.”

Harry gives him one last stern look before continuing.

“Anyway, so my dad left when I was pretty young…and it was just me, Gem and mum for a while but mum met Robin and he makes her happier than dad ever did I think and I dunno, my mum was just always there for me. She’s the kind of mum who would threaten to have me castrated if she knew I was staking out gay bars looking for my first time but she’s also the type of mum who pretends not to notice when I sneak a drink at family gatherings. When I came out a couple of months ago, my family was the most supportive of anybody and having that and Niall, always good for a laugh and an illegal pint, it just made me….hopeful.”

Louis wants to laugh at Harry, to tell him that just because he has a good mate and a great family, it doesn’t mean he’s owed anything more or that the world is trying to tell him something. Louis himself didn’t have the worst upbringing. His family, after all, are one of the few things he professes to care about but it doesn’t mean anything in the real world. It doesn’t mean people won’t demean you or judge you or let you down. Louis was in love once. But it’s not in him to talk about it, not when Harry’s looking at him with these ridiculous shining eyes and a kind of cautious happiness in the set of his mouth; much too eager for Louis’ approval.

The problem is he wants to laugh at Harry and offer the brutal truth but he kind of also wants to encourage the idealism that he himself doesn't possess. He doesn’t want to think about why but there’s a small part of him that envies Harry and wants nothing more than for him to keep believing. There’s a tiny part of him that thinks something wonderful like love might just be possible for someone like Harry Styles.

“And Niall? Tell me about Niall,” Louis decides, using his arms as a pillow on the headrest of the couch.

Harry’s eyes follow the movement and he smiles slowly as he responds.

“Well…the lads and I sometimes call him ‘the captain.’ Partly because he’s Irish and can drink enough to sink a battleship but mostly because…well, he tends to interfere with any and all of my relationships.”

Louis’ smile wobbles a little at the word relationships.

“I thought you hadn’t been with anyone?”

“Boys,” Harry corrects, “I haven’t been with boys. I’ve been dating since I turned 13. I was kind of a serial dater in fact…or so people presumed. I’m quite hands on…in case you hadn’t noticed...yeah alright, no need to roll your eyes…so anyway, any girl I was with, any girl I touched…people just kind of assumed we had something going on. Truth be told, I only had two girlfriends.”

“Define girlfriends,” Louis says, a strange lilt to his voice.

“Well yeah…we did stuff. Dated Caroline for about a year when I was 13, she was my first kiss. Then dated Taylor when I was fifteen until…until I came out.”

  
Harry’s face seemingly crumples at this and Louis barely notices his own hand reaching out to grasp Harry’s shoulder until Harry’s hand reaches up and skims across the back of his knuckles before he rests his hand atop Louis.’

“What happened?” Louis asks, wondering where this sudden, unfamiliar compassion is coming from.

That isn’t to say he’s a terrible or cold person usually but it’s just…Harry’s still so much unknown to him. Why does he feel the need to convince him everything will be okay?

“She caught me….masturbating…to some stuff,” Louis cringes, imagining the scene, “and I just couldn’t lie to her or anybody else anymore. I knew. I knew awhile back but it had been this private part of myself that I just sort of assumed would always be there. I just thought I could work around it…but suddenly Taylor was there and she was crying and screaming and I couldn’t just file it away anymore. I was petrified she would tell everybody.”

“And did she?”

Louis doesn’t notice he’s unconsciously leaning forward until Harry reaches around him and smooths a hand down the soft hairs at the base of his neck. Louis hums softly at the sensation, trying not to move against Harry’s hand too obviously.

“No. That’s the thing. She loved me, she really did. She let me go and she told me it was okay and that I should be okay with myself. She told me I should have told her but basically she said, "I want you to be happy and I know you aren’t happy with me now." And while I appreciated it, it hurt more than anything anybody has ever said to me. People can call me a fag or a gay fucker like they called you Lou and that’s...horrible, god it’s horrible,” Harry breathes deeply and Louis’ heart is thumping at the soft endearment of ‘Lou,’ “but the worst thing...the worst thing is knowing you hurt someone because you couldn’t be honest with yourself and everybody else.”

So maybe Louis knows what it is now, at least in part. He knows why he’s suddenly avidly fascinated by Harry and determined to be his friend. Harry is the epitome of everything good and Louis is only bitterness and selfishness. Maybe Louis’ okay with being the way he is when he’s getting great head...or giving it if he’s honest with himself, in the light of the day, he feels a little less certain. So yes, Harry’s got him all jumpy and mixed up inside but that’s all it is; a latent desire to do better. Nothing else.

  
“Harry,” he says smoothly, “it’s not your fault. It’s incredibly difficult to come to terms with that part of yourself. Trust me, I get it. It changes your whole life and there’s no going back even when it gets hard. Forgive yourself. Leave the bitterness to me Haz.”

Harry pulls at the edge of his own shirt, staring intently at the frayed edges as Louis watches him with blatant curiosity.

“Why are you being so nice? You don’t like me,” Harry murmurs, so softly Louis almost misses it.

He tilts Harry’s chin up and then smiles at him in the only way he seems to know how anymore; with gentle upturned lips and creases around his warm blue eyes.

“I like you plenty Harold. Even though I’m a jerk. I just don’wat nt the rest of it as such,” Louis explains.

“Please. Can I just…can I kiss you…just once?” Harry pleads, a downward tilt to his mouth as he regards Louis.

“I think we’ve had enough of that. Let’s be mates. You can introduce me to ‘the captain’ and I’ll introduce you to…oh no wait, you already took care of that and introduced _yourself_ to Liam and Zayn,” Louis natters on, trying to break the tension.

It works. Harry’s slow grin is back and he reaches out and tickles Louis’ stomach as Louis wriggles away, squealing embarrassingly.

“Harrrrry,” he whines, long and low between high pitched between giggles.

Harry’s leaning over him now and he presses their foreheads together, beaming as Louis’ breath comes out of him in short little gasps.

“So you’re ticklish. Good to know. I will keep that in mind,” he teases.

Louis pushes him away and he chuckles, green eyes glittering.

“What have I gotten myself into, agreeing to be friends with a heathen like you?” Louis sighs.

Harry looks over at him and everything about him glows.

“Trust me Lou, I’m going to be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

My golden retriever, Louis thinks to himself, nipping at my heels once more.


	5. Chapter 5

“Niall,” shouts the blonde boy, sliding his hand into Louis’ “Niall Horan.”

“I’m-“

“Louis, the love of Harry’s young life,” Niall finishes, his grin stretching across his face.

Harry elbows him sharply in the ribs, blushing furiously as two guys snogging furiously jostle him slightly. Louis reaches out, wrapping a hand around his bicep to steady him before he trips over his ridiculous looking gold boots. Niall just grins wider, his eyes on Louis’ hand.

“I see my reputation precedes me.”

“Indeed it does,” Niall agrees, chuckling as Harry glares at him, “he talks about you all the time. Pretty sure he’s got the day you asked him to be friends with him inked into his calendar. How long’s it been H…two weeks and two days?”

“Can I take you back to the shop? I want my money back,” Harry groans, rubbing his hands into his eyes.

Louis laughs delightedly, forcibly removing Harry’s hands and rubbing circles into his palms.

“Don’t worry Harold, I think it’s adorable. Maybe when you’re actually of age, you can get my name tattooed on your ass too,” he suggests with a manic grin and a wink.

Niall throws his head back and lets out an outrageously loud laugh that rises above the noise of the bar.

“H, you didn’t tell me he was this much fun,” Niall complains, slapping his best mate on the back.

“I quite like you,” Louis returns the sentiment, reaching over and pinching the younger boy’s cheek, “you’re quite entertaining…for a seventeen year old.”

Harry rolls his eyes and heads off in the direction of a table, sliding into the booth with a grumpy look on his face. Louis moves to follow but Niall stops him with a hand to his arm.

“Louis,” he says, his tone suddenly menacing.

Louis feels like an idiot but this seventeen year old is suddenly a lot fiercer than he looks.

“I think you’re great. That wasn’t a farce mate. Just…H is kind of like a brother to me and-“

“And if I hurt him, you’ll break every bone in my body,” Louis drones, his eyes rolling automatically at the clichéd warning, “don’t worry. Bit hard to hurt someone when you’ve got no interest in messing with ‘em.”

Niall gives him a long look and Louis hates that someone four years younger than him can make him feel so small suddenly.

“Don’t bullshit. You’ve already messed with him. You mess with him every time you touch him.”

“That’s not my-“

“Problem,” Niall finishes, “maybe not. Maybe you don’t want Harry to look at you like you hung the moon and the stars…but he does...and I dunno, you seem like an okay guy to me. Beneath all the bluster. Maybe you might want to think about taking it down a notch.”

Louis glances over to Harry’s table to see him playing with the neck of his beer bottle, rolling it between his palms with a rather unguarded expression on his face. He bobs his head along to the song that can barely be heard above the noise and his black head scarf flutters a little with each movement. Louis remains unaffected but then Harry spins his bottle between his fingers and it almost smashes onto the table before he stills it, placing it back on the bench with a shake of his curly head. Louis doesn’t even feel the quirk in his lips until he turns back to Niall who’s grinning from ear to ear once more.

“Unless of course…” he trails off, tilting his head decidedly to one side.

“Unless of course what?” Louis growls.

“Unless of course it’s not just bluster and bullshit,” he says, leaning close.

Louis chooses not to dignify this with a response, narrowing his eyes at Niall before dragging him over to Harry’s table.

“Oh look at that, the two new best friends have decided to join me,” Harry says dramatically, swinging his bottle up into the air.

Niall laughs openly, sliding into the opposite side of the booth while Louis reaches around to grab Harry by the back of his neck as he slides in next to him. Harry’s eyes lighten a little at his touch but when Louis glances at Niall, he sees the warning written all over his face so he lets his hand ride up into Harry’s hair and ruffles it casually before letting go.

“Don’t be jealous Haz. You know you and Niall will always be the dream team.”

Harry slides closer until their thighs touch and then squeezes his shoulder, placing his other hand high up on Louis’ thigh. He pushes his mouth against the side of Louis' face to breathe into his ear.

“I thought you and I were the dream team.”

“Disgusting,” Niall groans at the same time as Louis pushes Harry’s face away.

“I agree entirely Niall. Haz, you’re putting the patrons off their…um…”

“Sucking each other’s faces off?” Harry offers.

“Exactly. No one wants to see the kind of affection that isn’t going to lead to something illicit.”

“Mm,” Harry hums, raising his bottle to his lips, “it is a damn shame.”

“Is he always this pathetic around you?” Niall asks but his eyes are shining with amusement now.

“Always. Is he like this around all devilishly handsome guys?”

Louis pulls Harry into him by the waist hoping Niall will stop trying to scold him with his eyes. He’s a 21 year old man for Christ’s sake. If he wants to tease Harry a little with his touch, he’ll damn well do so. Thankfully, Niall doesn’t react. Harry doesn’t meet his eyes but Louis notes the upward tilt of his lips when he squeezes the younger boy’s side.

“Nope, just you,” Niall says, popping the ‘p.’

Louis tries not to feel so sick with pleasure but it’s a close thing.

“You agree I’m devilishly handsome? Oh Haz, poor thing, looks like your best mate might want some of this too. Best call dibs,” he says lowly, tilting his face up in order to appreciate Harry’s pout.

“Dibs,” Harry whispers, leaning down and nipping at Louis’ ‘it is what it is’ tattoo.

Niall scoffs while Louis leans away from Harry’s mouth, willing his cock not to do the thinking for him.

“Thanks love,” Louis chirps, pretending he didn’t almost just get hard from the sensation of Harry’s teeth on his skin, “but you know Niall's obvious attraction to me means nothing. I just don’t really do blondes. In every sense. Sorry Niall.”

“How tragic,” Niall rolls his eyes, “I was so desperate to have you fuck me.”

Harry shoots him a glare but then jumps when he finds Louis watching, an arrogant smile sitting prettily on his lips. Louis isn’t above a nice gesture so he leans over and places a hand on Harry’s thigh, massaging it tightly to let him know he takes Harry’s adorable show of jealousy as a compliment. He happens to enjoy the unwavering attention, even if he can’t and won’t return it.

“Time’s up boys,” he shouts suddenly, clasping his hands together.

Niall raises an eyebrow and Harry’s chin juts out defensively. Though they’ve been texting on and off these past few weeks, this is the first time they’ve properly hung out since Harry made him dinner and he can tell that Harry’s not pleased about him leaving. However, he is rather in the mood for something a little more illicit and like he tried to tell Niall, Harry Styles is most certainly NOT his problem.

“Where are you going?” Harry grumbles.

“Where do you think?” He leers, raising an eyebrow.

Harry downs the rest of his drink and then wraps a hand around Louis’ neck, splaying his fingers across the expanse of his throat before pulling Louis towards him in a possessive gesture that is seriously hot. Harry’s lips are surging across the space between them to meet his before he can protest but when Harry’s tongue slides past his teeth and along Louis’ own, he no longer wants to. He can barely stop himself from sliding into Harry’s lap and grinding down against him like he did that first time. He manages to resist…just…but Harry’s mouth is insistent on his, sucking until Louis’ fighting for breath, before pulling back a little and offering him just the barest hint of tongue. This time it’s Harry that pulls away, leaving Louis breathless and more than a little dazed.

He glances across the booth to find Niall having vacated the seat and when he looks back at Harry, he finds two awfully smug, evergreen eyes.

“Have a nice time,” He says quietly, his mouth trembling as he holds back a smile.

“Thanks love. And thank you for prepping me,” Louis smiles lasciviously, “if you know what I mean. I’m proper turned on now.”

Harry’s mouth settles into a hard line before parting but just as he’s about to speak, Louis slides out of the booth and dances out of hearing range, determined to have the last word. How dare Harry kiss him like that? What did Harry think…that he’d be less inclined to have sex with somebody else if he riled him up? He’s got another thing coming if he thinks he can turn Louis into his own personal monogamous boyfriend.

  
……

  
“You know this movie has too many storylines to be any good,” Louis whispers in Harry’s ear, sure to nose along the line of his throat as he pulls away.

Harry just tugs him close again like Louis knew he would.

“Love actually is the best movie out there thank you very much. And I didn’t invite you over so you could mock it!”

Harry’s frown is all for show. Louis can spot the light sparkling around his pupils as he leans a little too close and while it should be disconcerting, he finds he doesn’t mind. As long as Harry doesn’t expect much in return, Louis is okay with him having a little crush.

“You’re right,” he concedes, his mouth twitching, “you invited me over and demanded to sit next to me so you could manhandle me.”

Louis eyes Harry’s large hand that’s clamped down on his knee and watches with utter delight as Harry flushes before attempting a look of outrage.

“I would do no such thing!”

He attempts to retract his hand but Louis’ delicate fingers still the motion, a flirtatious glint in his eye.

“It’s okay babe. I know you can’t keep your hands off me.”

Harry’s mouth falls open a little and then he lets out a growl throwing his body over Louis’, punctuating the silence around them and blocking the sounds emanating from the small TV screen in Harry’s living room. Louis’ hand comes up to his mouth automatically to block the sounds of the giggle fighting its way out as Harry’s fingers dig into his waist, tickling him until his high pitched whine and tears of laughter satisfy Harry enough for him to relent, his eyes glowing with light hearted joy.

“Fucking hell,” comes a loud, strong Bradford accent.

Louis’ eyes pop a little as he looks over to the other couch to find Zayn and Liam staring at him. Zayn’s expression is a cross between irritation and disgust while Liam looks simply…surprised. Louis might have forgotten they were here. For a moment. He lets his eyes trail down to the floor where Niall lies on his stomach. Except now he’s rolled over, obviously in light of all the commotion and is raising an eyebrow at Louis, asking silent questions Louis doesn’t plan on answering anytime soon.

“What?” Louis says, trying for casual.

Zayn shakes his head with a dark expression while Liam’s eyebrows pull together. Niall lets out a loud, hacking cough that sounds rather like a poorly disguised laugh. Harry leans in and presses himself up against Louis’ back, talking quietly in his ear.

“I think we made a bit of a scene.”

Louis can’t help himself. He cranes his head around to smirk at Harry, sliding his hand across Harry’s hip.

“Trust me love, if I wanted to make a scene, you’d be pressed down against these cushions with me between your legs.”

Harry’s eyes darken and he bites down hard on his lip, drawing Louis’ eyes downward and creating a potential problem in his tight trousers. However the moment ends when Zayn groans loudly behind him. Whoops. He might have unintentionally let the words fly out without any volume control.

“Please stop. I beg of you,” Zayn pleads as Louis whips around to look at him.

“You’re worse than us when we first hooked up,” Liam agrees, patting Zayn’s knee to calm him.

Zayn hooks his head over Liam’s shoulder but he looks far from content.

“Nope, not possible,” Louis denies vehemently, turning to explain to Harry, “they were absolutely sickening.”

"Harold and I are not hooking up nor are we together. Much to his displeasure.”

Harry bites down hard on Louis' shoulder blade and he jumps, turning to glare at him. Harry just tilts his head sideways with a self-satisfied smirk and Louis can practically see the word “retribution” written on his forehead.

“That’s why it’s so funny,” Niall butts in, leaning back on his forearms, “You’re pretty much dating each other…but without any of the benefits.”

Louis’ muscles lock into place as he realises how true the statement is. He and Harry have virtually not stopped texting since they met. Whenever he can, he drives Harry home from school and they end up parked out the front of Harry’s house, just yakking on about nothing for hours. That is, until Anne peeks through the window, looking testy and Harry jumps out the car quicker than he can say “goodbye” just to ensure his mum doesn’t come out. Louis is yet to meet her because from what Harry tells him, she’s not too pleased about the two of them hanging out nor about how Harry met Louis. Of course he had to go and be honest with her. Silly golden retriever. 

It’s only been a month since they met but Louis is already becoming dependent on Harry’s friendship. Most days, he sits in the library at uni pretending to study his text book for theatrical performances while glancing at his phone every two minutes. He waits for Harry to go to lunch or to be between classes because he knows Harry won’t hesitate to text him whenever he gets the chance. It’s not that he needs anymore from Harry than he’s getting. He’s perfectly happy with their arrangement but it shocks him now to realise just how close they’ve gotten and how remarkably touchy feely they are with each other. He remembers their conversation from just the other day when they’d been sitting in front of Harry’s house as usual and Harry had plucked him up out of the driver’s seat and somehow pulled him over the gear stick and into his lap.

  
…..

  
“Harold, you know I’m NOT a ragdoll right? My body doesn’t just automatically swing whatever way you want it to.”

Harry just chuckled and drew him tighter against his body.

“I think I just proved it does. You don’t mind this….do you?”

Louis thought about protesting. He did. Because as affectionate as he is with his mates, it’s never been like this and he knows deep down, it’s getting perilously close to the kind of connection he swore he’d never have. Not that he thinks he has a thing for Harry. It’s just that Louis has never let himself become so attached to somebody’s presence before. Until Harry Styles, that is. He wants Harry to know that touching him like this isn’t going to change the way he feels because hell, he doesn’t want Harry to get the wrong idea. But Harry’s eyes loomed large and childlike in his face, watering a little with fear or simply focused attention, Louis doesn’t know... but the sight of it was too much.

“No Haz, I don’t mind,” he assured Harry, pushing some fluffy curls away from his eyes.

Harry smiled at the gesture and caught Louis' hand in his own, rubbing a line across his palm.

“Your hands are very tiny Lou,” he teased, holding their joined hands up and twisting them this way and that, “just like you.”

Louis reached down and palmed Harry through his trousers before squeezing much too hard. However it did not have the desired effect. Harry’s eyes fluttered closed and a quiet moan slipped out of his mouth as Louis snatched his hand away, wondering why he couldn’t get back at Harry like a normal person. Now not only was Harry’s porn star worthy moan stuck in his head but he had a little too much information about what turned Harry on. Suffice to say, he resisted the replay of that moment for all of 30 seconds in the shower later that night before his hand gravitated downward and he found himself getting off to the very thought.

  
…..

  
“Just because you have never had the kind of all access, no limits friendship that I happen to have with Harry, doesn’t mean you need to give me cheek,” Louis says, flashing a superior smile.

Niall’s grin just widens as he looks over to Liam and Zayn.

“Strange definition of all access, am I right lads?”

Liam and Zayn both cackle loudly, Niall joining in after a moment. Harry leans down on his stomach, his legs extending up the wall behind the couch and smacks Niall across the leg. Louis grips his legs desperately so he doesn’t slide down completely and hurt himself. This just makes Niall laugh harder.

“What’s going on in here?” A light, feminine voice asks.

Harry attempts to twist his body which ends with him crumpled on the ground. Niall just grins happily up at whoever just entered the room which motivates Louis to turn around and spy the dark haired woman who he recognises as the usually woman glaring at him through the window.

“Anne!” Niall cheers, jumping up from his position on the floor, before throwing himself around Harry’s mum.

She drops the plastic bag full of groceries in order to embrace him, her eyes twinkling as she smiles.

“How’s my favourite boy?!”

“Excuse me,” Harry shouts, jumping up in outrage.

Anne pats Niall on the back before walking over and embracing her son as she plants a kiss in his curls. Louis is hopelessly endeared and...envious. Is that envy? Oh fuck no.

“Thought you weren’t going to be home ‘till late,” Harry says, against her shoulder.

Right. Harry doesn’t want the two of them to meet. This should be interesting. Anne pulls away from her son, giving him a funny look before taking in the rest of the boys. Her eyes come to rest on Louis, hardening slightly as she takes in his many tats, over-sized singlet and absent socks.

“Hi,” he says quietly, figuring it’s best to get the pleasantries out of the way first….especially if they’re not going to be so pleasant, “I’m Louis.”

“I know,” she says coldly, sticking her hand out in a businesslike manner.

“Mum!” Harry says in outrage, his face creasing up.

They both ignore him, Louis clasping her hand tightly and shaking it as Anne gives him another once-over. She then turns to Zayn and Liam without another word.

  
“And you two must be Ziam. The happy couple,” she says, abruptly jovial.

Louis’ heart sinks as he considers the difference in their greetings. Liam blushes uncomfortably but Zayn breaks into a wide smile, apparently unbothered by the fact that Louis’ just been snubbed by Harry’s mum.

“That’s what I call you guys,” Harry says with a shrug, “thought it was cute.”

Louis tugs on his hand, interlocking their fingers with a fond smile.

“It is cute,” he agrees, ignoring the fact that Harry wasn’t addressing him.

Harry gives him a slow, syrupy smile in return and they stare at each other for a moment before someone coughs exaggeratedly beside them. Louis looks up into Anne’s eyes and sees her watching him almost speculatively now.

“Harry, I’d like to speak to Louis alone please.”

Harry glances between them with a furrowed brow.

“Um…”

“It’s not up for discussion. Have you shown Ziam your room yet?”

Harry sighs dramatically before leaning down and whispering in Louis’ ear.

“Don’t let her scare you away.”

Louis just raises his eyebrows.

“Harry, now.” Anne warns him, unsmiling.

“C’mon guys. I’ll show you some of my Polaroids,” Harry beckons to the rest of the boys, still eyeing Louis with concern.

Louis flashes him a quick thumbs up sign before the three boys trail behind him up the stairs. Anne walks around his legs to sit in Harry’s spot beside him.

“Louis.”

“Anne,” he mimics her serious tone.

“I don’t dislike you.”

“Could have fooled me,” he says, before he can stop himself.

He never has been very good at impulse control but honestly, why is he so concerned with her opinion of him anyway? It’s not like he wants to date Harry. It's not like she's his future mother-in-law. But Anne doesn’t castigate him. She chuckles. Louis is caught more than a little off guard.

“He did tell me you had a mouth on you,” she says with a small smile.

“What else did he tell you?”

“That he wanted you to be his first. Still does in fact. Thank you for telling him no.”

Anne reaches across and pats Louis' hand where it rests on his knee and he looks up at her with confusion. He had been convinced she was planning on castrating him when she advised Harry she wanted to speak to him.

“Not what you expected?” She asks.

“Not really, no. I’m used to suffering glares out of windows and that, before was…”

“I know. I apologise. I just know your type Louis. You’re the type of guy who usually gets his way and has all the power. It’s probably not intentional, you’re just that type of person. I just wanted you to know…I won’t let you do whatever you want with Harry.”

Her tone is steely and determined, her gaze unflinching and Louis is rather impressed. It’s true that he generally doesn’t answer to anybody but himself.

“Mrs Styles-“

“Anne,” she corrects, patting his knee again.

“Anne...Harry is a good friend. I like him very much,” he swallows noisily, “I’m not going to do whatever you think I’m going to do.”

“I know you care for him Louis. I can tell. But Harry is head over heels and you know that. I need you to promise me you won’t hurt him, even unintentionally. Just be mindful of the fact that he’s a 17 year old boy with his first real crush,” she says softly.

Louis’ heart thumps unevenly in his chest for the oblivious boy upstairs. His heart thumps equally for the concerned mother before him that loves her son more than anything.

“I promise,” he says in a throaty voice, locking eyes with her.

“Well then,” she says loudly, standing up and throwing her arms out, “get over here.”

Louis eyebrows almost disappear into his hair and Anne laughs before reaching over and pulling him into a hug. She reaches up and places a hand on his hair and then holds him tight as she whispers to him.

“I don’t know why you are the way you are. But I’m sorry that something or somebody hurt you.”

Louis doesn’t get a chance to reply because two rather defined arms wrap around his waist and pull him backward into something solid. He recognises the feeling of Harry’s curls tickling the side of his face.

“You’re still here,” he says brightly.

“Yep,” Louis confirms, meeting Anne’s watchful gaze, “I’m not going anywhere Haz.”

……

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Zayn says, his mouth twisting a little as he regards Louis.

Louis' denim jacket is snug against his more recently toned body and the black shirt sets off his tanned skin and blue eyes. He's also donned the tightest pair of dark jeans he owns and finally, he sprays a spritz of cologne, straightening his jacket a little before turning to face Zayn.

"God, not you too. You've been spending too much time with him."

Zayn grimaces.

"Who, Liam?"

"Well yes. But no, I’m talking about Harry. Stop hanging out with him without me.”

“Jeez. Possessive boyfriend much,” Zayn mutters with a roll of his eyes.

Louis narrows his eyes and gestures to his attire.

“Would a possessive boyfriend be getting all dressed up to go fuck someone else?”

“Exactly. That’s what I’m saying. You can’t have it both ways Lou,” Zayn scolds him, standing up from the bed and reaching up to fiddle with his hair.

“I don’t want it both ways. Harry is a friend, that’s all,” Louis urges.

“You promised Anne you wouldn’t hurt him,” Zayn says with gritted teeth.

“God, I knew it was a mistake telling you about that. Would you just quit with the lecture? I know I promised her. But if Harry gets upset, that’s not my fault.”

Louis’ getting impatient now. His dick feels like it’s been hard all week. It’s Saturday night and he’s getting laid. No matter what it takes.

“Maybe not but you could try showing a little compassion Lou.”

“Sorry, Liam, I thought I was speaking with my good friend Zayn but clearly not. Please tell your boyfriend to stop filling your head with that mindless drivel,” Louis snaps.

Zayn’s eyes widen slightly and then he storms out the room, slamming Louis’ door behind him.

Fan-fucking-tastic, thinks Louis. Tonight is sure to be a ripper of a time…being trailed by a sad puppy dog, sad puppy dog’s protector, an angry artist and a whiny Liam because let’s face it, if Zayn’s in a bad mood, he will be too.

…..

  
“I’m sorry Zayn,” Louis shouts, tugging the resistant boy into his arms.

They’re stood in the corner of a gay club, scoping out the scene, or at least Louis is, while waiting for the rest of the lads. Zayn had been silent the whole car ride there and Louis was already at his wit’s end by the time they reaching their meeting place. Zayn winds his arms around Louis after a moment, clapping him on the back before drawing back with a small smile.

“It’s fine Lou. Just…please don’t…it’s not cause of Liam,” he finally settles on, “we have talked about it but he’s actually more on your side. He thinks,” Zayn exhales noisily, “he thinks you and Harry will end up together. I just think Harry will end up brokenhearted. And Harry’s great, I don’t want to see that happen.”

Louis just grins.

“Well you’re both wrong. But I appreciate the concern.”

Zayn smiles back at him and then slaps him on the butt.

“Now go get some!”

Louis raises an eyebrow.

“I was planning on greeting the lads first.”

“I’ll greet them for you,” Zayn promises.

“You want me to get in and out before he gets here, don’t you?”

Louis narrows his eyes, pointing an accusing finger at Zayn but Zayn just shrugs, unaffected.

“Well Malik, I can’t promise anything but I’ll do my best. If not, ask him to dance. You know he loves it when you do that.”

“No,” Zayn corrects, rolling his eyes, “he loves it when YOU do that. He settles for me when you're unavailable.”

“Poor Zaynie,” Louis coos, pinching his cheek, “nobody’s first choice.”

“Except mine. My first choice. He’s all mine,” Liam says, planting a kiss on the side of Zayn’s face as he rocks their near conjoined bodies together to the sound of the beat.

He’s flanked by Niall and Harry who both look rather delectable. Niall’s donned in a loose white singlet that shows off toned arms with light blue jeans and black trainers. Harry’s gone rather preppy with a red shirt covered by a navy blue blazer with dark trousers.

“You look nice,” Louis says, tugging Harry into him by the edge of his blazer.

Harry grins appreciatively as his eyes fall down Louis’ body.

“You too.”

“I’ll speak to you later sunshine,” Louis says, rising up on his tiptoes to speak into Harry’s ear.

Harry’s eyes look rather empty when Louis draws away but Louis can’t find it within himself to do something about it.

“Have a good night boys,” he bids them adieu, ruffling Niall’s hair as he dances into the crowd of thrumming bodies around him.

  
……

  
It’s an hour later that he finds his target. The lad is 6 foot something with a short mop of ashen hair and slightly dark, exotic looking skin. However what really draws Louis’ attention is the button down shirt that is buttoned down low enough to reveal a sprawling tattoo. Damn, Louis has a thing for tattoos. He licks his lips appreciatively before striding confidently across the dance floor and grabbing the attractive stranger’s hip.

The man turns to face him, his eyes immediately scoping out Louis’ body and apparently liking what he sees as he reaches around and grabs Louis’ ass, pulling him closer and inserting his leg between Louis’ legs so Louis can grind down upon it to the beat of the music.

“I’m Louis,” he shouts, leaning closer.

“I’m Rhys.”

Rhys’ voice is deep and gravelly and quite similar to Harry’s. Disconcertingly so. Rhys opens his mouth to speak again, probably to ask Louis some inane personal question that he doesn’t really care to answer and Louis doesn’t really want to be reminded of Harry right now. Louis wants to get off. So he cuts off Rhys’ speech with the pressure of his lips, moaning loudly when Rhys forces him down hard against his thigh, moving him back and forth to create friction. Rhys breaks the kiss to trail his lips down Louis’ throat and Louis is still grinding, fighting the urge to close his eyes when his gaze locks with Harry’s, stood stock-still in the same place as he was an hour ago.

Harry’s leaning up against the wall, his leg tugged up behind him as Niall talks into his ear but Harry’s not looking at Niall and Louis is quite certain he’s not even hearing him. His gaze is so intense, it burns and even across the room, Louis can see the pain etched into Harry’s face as it crumples. Rhys grabs his face, forcing it back in his direction and takes his mouth once more, groping Louis’ ass possessively.

“Let’s get out of here,” He breathes raggedly.

“Um,” Louis responds stupidly.

Why is he hesitating? Rhys is just about the most beautiful man he’s had the pleasure of getting to fuck in a long time. Only he hasn’t had the pleasure yet. So why on earth is he so torn? Why is he eyeing Harry with poorly concealed concern and pushing Rhys away with a firm hand?

“Just…give me a minute. I just have to say bye to my friends,” Louis assures him.

Rhys looks slightly put off but then Louis leans forward and licks a line around Rhys’ tattoo and Rhys forces him away with a loud, breathy “meet me out front.”

Louis trips slightly as he staggers over to Harry but Harry’s hands come around his hips, steadying him. Louis may have had a bit too much to drink in the last hour. Niall takes one look at their faces and then walks off aimlessly into the crowd.

“Louis,” Harry says tonelessly.

“Haz.”

Louis smiles warmly. He’s still determined to pretend everything’s okay.

“Got somewhere to be?” Harry asks, tilting his head in the direction of the exit.

“Kinda.”

God, why does he sound like he’s apologising for something? Harry’s smiling at him too but there are no dimples and his mouth is stretched too wide, like a rubber band about to snap from the tension.

“Harry, I-“

“You can go. It’s fine. I’ll be fine,” Harry says quickly, pushing him away.

Louis crowds him in against the wall and then wraps him up in a hug, deeply inhaling Harry’s clean, masculine scent. He just stays like that for a moment until Harry forcibly pushes him away once more.

“He’s waiting,” he says bitterly, “best be on your way.”

Louis chews on his lip for a minute, just gazing into Harry’s reproachful eyes before walking away, dragging his feet slightly. Yet a hand reaches out and grips his shoulder, spinning him around, before he can reach the door. It’s Zayn and he looks absolutely furious.

“Going somewhere?” he grits out.

“You knew-“

“Yeah I knew you were going to hook up. I didn’t know you were going to give Harry a sneak preview and then go on over there and grab him like you’ve got some sort of sick claim to him still. Louis, what were you thinking?” Zayn implores and Louis can see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Well…you were supposed to ask him to dance!” Louis blusters pathetically.

“I did,” Zayn says slowly, coldly, “and you know what he told me. He said, ‘oh no, it’s okay Zayn. Lou will come ask me soon.’”

Louis blanches and there’s a sharp, unfamiliar pain in his chest. Guilt.

“I-“

“Just go Louis. Go get your rocks off so you can pretend that you don’t care about him. We’ll pick up the pieces…as usual,” Zayn spits.

“Zayn,” Louis says desperately, panic clawing up his throat.

“Lou,” Liam's voice whispers in his ear, “just leave him be. Just go.”

Liam winds an arm around Zayn and pulls him away and Louis feels like crying. He’s losing everybody. All because he’s in desperate need of a fuck. He doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to get it up now but he might as well try. There’s nothing left for him here after all. He fucked it all up.


	6. Chapter 6

Louis drives up alongside Harry and honks the horn obnoxiously, waiting until Harry turns around to glare at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well I thought I was picking you up from school today but obviously not.”

Harry stops walking and Louis stalls his car by the side of the road, turning to face Harry who hoists his dark blue bag higher up his shoulders defensively.

“I texted you. I told you, you didn’t have to pick me up today,” Harry grumbles, his curls falling across his eyes.

“And I told you that I would. That we needed to talk.”

“I didn’t think you were serious.”

Harry does sound rather bewildered by this turn of events.

“Harry, I’m not going to let you avoid me for any longer than you already have. It’s been a week. Just get in the damn car, would you?”

Louis is past the point of frustrated as Harry stands there shifting from foot to foot, the wind making a manic mess of his curls.

“Do I have to drag you?”

Harry rolls his eyes and then trudges over to the car before slamming his door. Louis pulls out back into the street and drives until they reach Harry’s house, neither of them breeching the silence. It’s only as Harry attempts to open his door that Louis leans across and promptly pulls it closed.

“So that’s it then?” Louis asks testily, “You’ll let me drive you home but you won’t talk to me? You're just going to leave it like this?”

“You offered,” Harry says lamely, staring down into his lap.

Louis grabs his chin and forces his face upward.

“Please stop acting like a child,” he says calmly.

Harry rips his chin away but he’s not pouting anymore which is something. Louis’ not sure he can take any more of that stubborn bottom lip.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I caused a fight between you and Zayn and I’m sorry I acted like a baby and I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. Are we done now?” Harry says tiredly.

Louis studies him for a moment. He notes the considerably blank look in Harry’s usually sparkling eyes and the creases on his face that suggest more anxiety than laughter. His school shirt is buttoned haphazardly, as though he weren’t particularly focused on it when he got dressed that morning and as Louis’ eyes trail down, he notes the odd pair of socks on Harry’s feet. Crap, Louis thinks, I’ve ruined him. I've ruined my golden retriever.

Louis attempts a subtle manoeuvre over the gearstick to plop himself down into Harry’s lap but instead winds up with half the gearstick up his bum which isn’t nearly as erotic as he would have imagined and his legs stretched too wide in different directions so that his hamstrings start to ache. Yet Harry is pointedly staring out the window and doesn’t notice Louis’ disastrous situation until Louis' foot, resting on the floor next to Harry’s, nudges him as he begins to flail.

“Harry, help,” He chokes out, wincing from the pain in his legs.

Harry looks up at him and his eyes go wide with surprise but he quickly clasps two hands around Louis’ waist and hoists him up and over the gearstick and into his lap, scooting forward and allowing Louis to wrap his legs around him like an oversized koala. Harry’s face is awfully closed now and Louis is just disturbed enough by Harry’s appearance to reach out and touch a faded scar by his left eye.

“What’s this from?” He says quietly, shifting his gaze to Harry’s eyes.

They blink up at him with bleary eyed confusion.

“What on earth were you doing?” Harry asks, wrapping a hand around his wrist and pulling his hand away from the scar.

“Well…I was trying to get myself over here. I wanted to apologise,” Louis says simply.

Harry’s eyebrows furrow but his hands move up and down the small of Louis’ back gently. It’s a rather soothing sensation and Louis’ eyelashes flutter a little as he arches his back.

“And you couldn’t do that from over there?” Harry says, tilting his head in the direction of the other car seat.

“Well maybe,” Louis smiles, “but I have always wondered what it would be like to be a koala bear.”

Harry shakes his head but it's bursting with fondness, the corners of his lips turning upward, seemingly against his will.

“Haz,” Louis says now, reaching out to grab his chin once more, “don’t be sorry. Because I am the one who should be sorry...and I am.”

“You are?”

Harry sounds cautiously hopeful.

“Yes. Not for what I did exactly but perhaps for how I handled it. It was a little showy.”

“Right,” Harry says, almost gruffly.

“And Zayn and me, we’re fine,” Louis assures him.

“I know. He told me you bought him some super expensive paint brushes,” Harry grins, “he said he should get mad at you more often.”

“Course he did,” Louis mutters.

Truth be told though, he’s incredibly relieved that Zayn chose to forgive him. He probably couldn’t handle life without the boy by his side.

“So you want to hear about this?”

Harry reaches up and traces the faded line beside his eye. Louis bobs his head enthusiastically, bouncing a little in Harry’s lap.

“Yes please.”

Harry chuckles and then pulls him down by the hip, forcing him to stop moving.

“My sister bet me 50 bucks that I couldn’t learn to juggle knives,” Harry says, completely straight faced.

Louis ogles him for a moment before throwing the car door open and bounding out. He’s halfway to the door before Harry grabs him by the wrist and whirls him around, grabbing his shoulder to steady him.

“Where are you going?”

“To tell Anne that she raised two idiots for children and that she should probably think about replacing them.”

Harry squeezes his wrist a little too tightly.

“Excuse me!” Harry says indignantly, “I was ten. I thought I could do anything. I wasn’t actually half bad….but then when I went to show Gem, one nicked me a little and I ended up with a scar. But mum doesn’t actually know how I got it. I told her I don’t know how I got it.”

“You are going to kill yourself one day. If this is how you make decisions that is. Forget going to gay clubs, you need a fucking full-time carer,” Louis says, gesticulating wildly with his free hand.

Harry’s mouth lifts into a smile.

“Well, in my defence, I could probably climb over a gearstick without impaling myself on it or splitting my body in two,” Harry says, giving him a pointed look.

Louis reaches down and grips the back of Harry’s thigh tightly, watching with glee as Harry’s eyes pop.

“I don’t know sunshine. These legs are about as long as two football fields. I’m not convinced you have any control over them,” Louis teases.

Harry seems to be getting better and better at firing back. He leans down and moves Louis’ hand higher up his thigh before releasing it.

“Can always test that hypothesis out if you’re game,” he says suggestively, eyeing Louis up and down.

Of course that’s when Anne chooses to scream out Harry’s name and Louis is a little frustrated before realising it’s probably best that he not stick around with his hands on Harry, getting his flirt on.

“That’d be your cue,” Louis sighs.

“Right,” Harry sighs too.

Then they both grin at each other and Harry pulls him into a tight bear hug.

“I’m glad we sorted things,” he whispers.

“Me too,” Louis echoes, pulling back with a genuine smile.

“See you tomorrow,” Harry calls as he runs inside.

“See ya sunshine. Tell your mother I said hi.”

It’s just as Louis’ walking back to the car that he hears the distinctly feminie shout of “hi love!” He stretches a hand out behind him and waves, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

…..

“This place is-“

“Beautiful. Amazing. Peaceful.”

Louis takes it upon himself to fill in the blank for Harry. It’s Tuesday evening and Louis had begged Anne to let him take Harry on an adventure for a couple of hours. She agreed when Harry promised to do his homework when he got back. After making up with Harry yesterday, Louis feels it’s only natural to want to make up for the amount of potential time spent together that they lost during the week that Harry avoided him.

So here they sit, on the bank of the only river that Louis ever visits that’s close to London, surrounded by lush greenery and a vast array of birds and buzzing insects that have quietened considerably with the onset of winter. Louis is shivering a little in the cold, despite the small sliver of sunlight. However the patchwork image of the different shades of green, punctuated by small shots of colour provided by seemingly exotic flowers makes for a stunning aesthetic and Louis does not plan on moving.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Harry says, turning to him with a smile.

“This is where I lost my virginity,” Louis says, without preamble.

He hadn’t exactly planned on telling Harry the story here but now seems as good a time as any, if not better and when Harry’s eyes settle on him, probing deep within, he’s surprised to note that he feels less violated and more intent on being truthful. He feels as though somehow Harry might understand in a way no one else has before.

“We used to come to London sometimes on weekends. Came up here one weekend and camped out just a few miles from this river,” Louis explains, staring into the water.

“You went camping with a meth addict?”

Harry sounds awfully confused and Louis doesn’t blame him.

“I didn’t know,” he says softly, “not until that weekend. Yeah he was awfully hyper sometimes, had a bit of a nervous twitch too…or what I thought was a nervous twitch but nobody knew. Everybody called him rocket cause everything he did, he did at warped speed. I was still a kid really, I didn’t know about things like that.”

Harry’s hand reaches across to grip his knee and he massages it lightly, encouraging Louis to keep talking.

“He was actually my boyfriend,” Harry had obviously assumed different and Louis hears his sharp intake of breath, “and I loved him. Or I thought I did. I’d known him since I was little. Never knew he was gay until we both showed up at the same gay bar in London, fake ID’s in hand. We thought we were cool...the same way you did I guess. From there, it was sort of just a natural progression. I had always liked him as a person and he was a good kisser so we sort of just fell into a pattern.”

“I thought you didn’t do that kind of thing?” Harry says bitterly.

Louis shoots him a hard look.

“I don’t.”

“But-“

“We’d been dating about a year when he took me up here, told me we were both ready. I was scared but I was also a sex starved young male so when he told me to strip down to my underwear, I did. It was freezing mind you and I told him so...but he grabbed me and started kissing me and I soon forgot about it. There was something different about it that time though. He was always keyed up but this was like,” Louis collects himself, “this was like, he was so keyed up, he didn’t even see me like I was a human being.”

“Lou,” Harry keens and Louis looks over at him, to find his eyes shining intensely, “you don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.”

Louis’ throat feels dry. Harry reaches over and runs his hand down the side of Louis’ face and Louis gulps because there’s only support in Harry's eyes, only unconditional support

“He didn’t take off his clothes. He didn’t do anything for me. Just unzipped his jeans and you know, a few strokes of his own hand and he was ready. Don’t know if it was the drugs or just cause he was young and it was his first time but it just, it didn’t take much. When he leaned over me, he looked kind of crazed and that was sort of a lightbulb moment for me. I realised he was on something. I had never been less turned on in my life but he started to press into me and…” Louis cringes now, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

It’s not the kind of ordeal that bothers him on a daily basis anymore but it isn’t so easy to forget and the few times he’s thought about it, it’s always been this part that’s been the hardest to relive. Perhaps because he still remembers how he felt when he was 16 going on 17 and in love with a meth addict who didn’t handle him gently the way he’d always dreamed.

He still remembers lying there afterwards unable to move and clothe himself; numbed by the cold, aching with the pain of forced pressure around his hole and deadened from the look in Zach’s eye. He still remembers swearing he’d never let anything like that happen to him ever again.

“Louis,” Harry pleads, shaking his shoulder and bringing him back to himself.

“Sorry,” he says, his eyelashes fluttering, “I was just remembering.”

Harry squeezes his knee again.

“I told him to stop,” Louis chokes out, “and he was just grunting like some kind of fucked possessed animal. It hurt so badly Haz. I was so tight. I don’t even know how he got it in but there was real damage down there afterwards. I tried. I remember saying,  “I love you but you’re hurting me. Can you please stop?" I remember saying that I didn't think it was how it was supposed to feel. But he wasn’t having it, he just pushed in harder and grunted louder in my ear. It’s like he wasn’t even aware of me and I-“

Louis wasn’t aware that he’d begun to rush through, speaking quickly and desperately, forcing the words out because they hurt so much and because he’s never really told anyone the story like this. Zayn and Liam only really know it hadn’t been a very pleasant experience for him.

Yet when Harry pulls him off his log and into his arms, interrupting his word vomit, Louis buries his head in Harry’s shoulder and lets one or two errant tears slip out onto his jumper. He thinks he’s been subtle with his small, shaky breathes until Harry reaches up and pats his hair down, running his hand all the way from the crown of his head to the base of his back a few times before letting Louis crawl back to his log.

“If you want to stop,” Harry says, tilting his head.

“No, no it’s okay,” Louis is determined now, “so um…I kept asking him to stop every time he thrust but he just kept going and I didn’t know what to do so-“

“He raped you.”

Harry’s eyes are abruptly stormy and he looks more ferocious than Louis’ ever seen him as he runs a hand through his curls and bares his teeth.

Louis falters at Harry’s words, automatically poised to deny the statement before the reality of what happened suddenly hits him. He’d thought that because Zach was his boyfriend, because he was willing enough to begin with…well he hadn’t exactly thought it was his fault but he hadn’t thought of it as abuse either. He’d certainly never said anything.

“Tell me you reported him, please,” Harry grits out but he looks like he knows the answer.

Louis just feels exhausted.

“I didn’t tell anyone Harry. I didn’t even tell my own mum.”

“God dammit Louis,” Harry shouts, getting up from his place to pace around the clearing.

Louis follows him, reaching out to grab his bicep, stilling his movement.

“Harry,” he says in a tiny voice, chewing on the edge of his sleeve and shivering as Harry turns to him, absolutely livid.

Louis is used to the lion cub and seeing the actual lion in Harry’s eyes is a bit too much. He doesn’t like Harry like this.

“Harry,” he says again when Harry doesn’t respond, his nostrils still flaring.

It takes a moment but Harry’s face finally settles and then he sheds his jumper and hands it over to Louis. Louis attempts to push it back but Harry just rolls his eyes and then waits for Louis to raise his arms so he can pull it over his head.

“You were shivering,” Harry says by way of explanation.

“So are you.”

“No, I'm shaking from anger,” Harry sighs.

The sun is just beginning to set behind Louis’ head and the last of the light reflects onto Harry’s face, sparking off the green off his irises and making them appear lighter than they truly are. Louis wishes Harry’s eyes would return to that state of perpetual brightness for real.

“Please don’t be angry with me,” Louis pleads with a frown.

Harry reaches across and tugs him into a hug by the edge of his own jumper that hangs off Louis, unsurprisingly much too large for his tiny frame. When Harry lets him go, there’s less tension on his face but he looks as exhausted as Louis feels.

“I’m not angry with you. Not really. I’m angry with him,” he spits the word, “and I’m frustrated that you wouldn’t speak up because I can guess why.”

This surprises Louis.

“Why then?”

“Because you were still in love with him. Even though he hurt you. And you didn’t want to make things any harder for your mum or your family. You thought it would be better for everybody if you just pretended like it didn’t happen. And maybe it was. Better for everybody. Except you.”

Harry is far too wise for his age. He knows better than Louis had at his age and it’s terrifying. Equally, it’s the most wonderful quality Harry has.

“I know.”

Now Harry’s surprised.

“You do?”

“Believe it or not Harold, I am capable of learning a lesson or two. I should have at least told my mum or my friends but I chose not to. Not even Zayn or Liam know the whole story. Only you. But it’s done. It’s in the past. It’s kind of like the sun. If you look directly at it, it hurts but you pay no real mind when it’s just there in the background. He is the background and my life is the foreground and I’ve never cried over a boy since,” Louis says, gripping Harry’s forearm just to prove he’s okay.

Yet Harry doesn’t look all that comforted. He still looks concerned.

“He didn’t deserve to touch you. I hate that he got to touch you,” he says roughly.

Louis reaches up and rubs his thumb across Harry’s scar.

“Stop thinking about it Haz. Just…now you know how I feel about our friendship. I trust you with this. I trusted you to be understanding.”

Harry’s large palm cups his cheek and he bows his head a little to look Louis dead in the eyes.

“If anybody ever hurts you, so help me god…”

Louis swipes his thumb across Harry’s bottom lip to stem the flow of words.

“They won’t and if they do, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

Harry smiles but his face is all creased and Louis hates it. So he reaches up on tip toes and quickly brushes his lips against Harry’s.

“Thank you,” He mouths quietly against the side of his face.

Then he leads Harry back to the car by his hand and doesn’t feel the need to let go, driving back home with one hand interlocked with Harry’s and one on the steering wheel.

……

“I just want to thank you for telling me that,” Harry murmurs as they come to a stop outside his house.

“I know how you can thank me,” Louis says with a smile stretching his face wide.

Harry feigns a look of fear.

“Louis, I’m not giving you a blowjob while my mother’s waiting just-“

Louis reaches across and slaps him lightly across the side of his head.

“No, you smart ass. I want you to tell me something. About you. Anything. Just, make it interesting because I’m pretty tired and if it’s not good, I might nod off,” Louis finishes with a smirk.

Harry scoffs.

“Well, how about what I want to do after school?”

Louis nods encouragingly and Harry smiles at him in return.

“I want to study music at uni. I know it’s like…hard to turn that kind of thing into a career but apart from photography, it’s the only thing I’ve ever been real interested in. And when I say interested, I mean life and death passionate,” he says with a grin.

“Music ey?” Louis tilts his head, “like, do you play instruments?”

“Well…no. I mean I can play the kazoo,” Louis chuckles, “but I’d like to maybe learn guitar…or piano. And I sing. I write songs.”

Louis closes his eyes for a moment, refusing to be attracted to this fact.

“Can I hear some?” He says instead of, “can you sing to me while I rock into you, nice and deep?”

“No,” Harry says, laughing loudly.

“What’s so funny?”

“Niall is the only one that has ever heard me sing and only cause he walked in on me in the shower and-“

“Niall’s seen you naked?” Louis growls.

He instantly regrets his tone but it’s too late.

Harry just smirks at him and continues.

“I kind of get…performance anxiety. I’m working on it. I just think that if I went to uni and studied it with like-minded people, I’d find a way to get over it. Plus maybe I could be in a band. I always kind of felt like I would be good in a band,” he gushes.

“You would be,” Louis says fondly, “you’d definitely be the charming one. The boy with the curls…who wouldn’t love him?”

Harry’s smile is quivering a little like it does when it’s just too big to fit on his face. Louis is a little ashamed to realise he knows things like this about Harry. Then again, he knows the names of all the hair products Zayn uses and the order in which he uses them.

“You know, I could teach you to play piano perhaps,” Louis says now, with a wink.

“Is there anything that you can’t do?” Harry sighs.

“I probably can’t get out of here before Anne comes out and starts lecturing me about bringing you home at a reasonable time,” Louis says, eyes on the door that’s just starting to creak open.

Harry just chuckles and then throws his arms around Louis, squeezing tightly.

“See you,” he whispers in Louis’ ear.

“Text me,” Louis says, a little more desperately than he planned.

“You text me,” Harry tries but Louis just scoffs.

“Fine, I’ll text you.”

“There’s a good boy,” says Louis, reaching up to ruffle Harry’s hair as he jumps from the car.

Harry rolls his eyes and then runs off in the direction of his house just as Anne steps out with hands on hips. Louis laughs to himself and then floors it out of there, the wind rushing through his hair as he leaves the top down, bobbing his head happily to some silly pop song.

It’s only when he returns home that he realises he’s still wearing Harry’s jumper. He sniffs it momentarily and then begins it to peel it off his body....but then he realises he’s all alone. There’s no one watching, no one judging and besides, it’s not like he’s declaring anything. He just happens to like the feel of the cotton. So he snuggles down into his bed and inhales a little more slowly this time, smiling a little as he closes his eyes and submits to a nap as his phone buzzes against his hip.


	7. Chapter 7

 

Louis: **_You’re going to be 18 in one minute !!!_**

**_50 seconds…._ **

**_40 seconds…._ **

**_30 seconds…._ **

**_20…._ **

**_10……_ **

**_5…._ **

**_HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAROLD! WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF ADULTS!_ **

**_Harry are you ignoring me?_ **

**_I know you’re awake…_ **

**_Your mother is smothering you with kisses isn’t she?_ **

**_Tell her your best friend is more important_ **

Harry: _You consider yourself part of the adult world do you? And my best friend? Since when? ;) .xx_

Louis: **_So you’ve turned into a smart ass. Fabulous._**

Harry: _Learnt from the best Lou .xx_

Louis: **_Yeah yeah, just get some sleep kiddo. There’s plenty of fun ahead of you tomorrow._**

Harry: _Can’t call me kiddo anymore…maybe adulto? :P .xx_

Louis: **_Phew, thank god adulthood hasn’t changed you…same old awful jokes, same old Harry_** _._

Harry: _Key word…old. .xx_

Louis: **_Goodnight sunshine ! :)_**

Harry: _Night Lou. See you tomorrow ? .xx_

Louis: **_Maybe ;)_**

…..

When Anne opens the door with a huge smile on her face, Louis knows it’s going to be a good day. He’d gotten her number from Niall just last week after he’d recounted the debacle of his lost virginity to Harry. He’d realised Harry’s birthday was coming up and he’d had plans that were going to require a little cooperation from Anne.

“Anne,” Louis bellows, grinning back at her.

Anne mimes a shushing motion.

“He might wake up,” she whispers.

Louis rolls his eyes and drops his stuff all over her floor.

“Yeah…right,” Louis says sarcastically, “the other day he fell asleep on the five minute drive home from school and didn’t even wake up when we passed this speeding lunatic on a motorcycle.”

“I hope you were careful around this speeding lunatic,” Anne says, pointing her finger at him.

“Yes Anne,” he says tonelessly.

She beams at him.

“So,” Anne starts, looking down at the objects arranged at his feet, “I assume you’re taking two of those items up to him now?”

“You assume correctly. I hope you also assume that this will occupy him for a good portion of the day,” Louis says, a questioning note in his tone.

But Anne just nods. They did discuss this after all.

“It’s called a plan for a reason Louis. Now stop wasting time and get up there,” she says, gesturing upstairs.

Louis doesn’t need to be told twice. He picks up his two packages, managing not to drop either and mounts the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste. Harry’s room is the closest one to the staircase as he was informed. As Louis walks in, he’s bombarded by the intimacy of observing Harry’s room…and Harry, without Harry’s permission.

The walls are a cute baby blue colour and are covered in Polaroids of Harry with his family in various places making silly faces. Artistic looking photos of different musicians and bands are scattered throughout. There’s two low down bedside tables either side of the bed which hold a number of large chunky cameras, and a worn looking journal. However it’s the queen sized bed that houses the most interesting item of all. Harry.

Harry is stretched out across black sheets that contrast with his slightly pale skin. He’s lying on his stomach with the duvet wrapped around just one part of his torso, leaving the rest of Harry’s semi naked body bare and on full display. Of course Louis knew that Harry slept in nothing but briefs but these ones are rather tight, leaving Louis unsure as to whether he wants to run his hand through Harry’s messy curls and then rip the briefs away or cover the boy up and just leave him be, exactly as he is.

Then Louis recalls his mission so he places his items on the floor and crawls onto Harry’s bed until he’s situated next to Harry’s head. He lightly strokes the curls away from Harry’s face and then quietly says his name. Harry lets out a muffled protest and then attempts to burrow further into the bed. Though this is rather adorable, Louis is not having it.

“Hello birthday boy,” he whispers into Harry’s ear.

This seemingly startles Harry as he abruptly sits up, looking manic and throws his arms out, knocking Louis clear off the bed.

“Ouch,” Louis complains, rubbing his bum.

Harry’s eyes are red rimmed and bleary and he tilts his head, studying Louis for a moment before understanding dawns on his face.

“Louis,” he says quietly, and then more enthusiastically, “Louis!”

He hauls Louis back up onto the bed and into his arms, burying his face in Louis' hair as his naked chest presses against Louis' shirt.

“Is that a…is that a…pet carrier?” Harry asks suddenly, pulling back to give Louis a quizzical expression as he glances between Louis and the items at the door.

“Well I’m glad you asked,” Louis answers, using his best theatrical tone, “why yes Harold, it is.”

“Is that my,” Harry bites his lip, “is that for me?”

Louis passes his hand across Harry’s jaw.

“Yes love.”

Harry’s beaming now and trying to peer inside the cage but Louis forces his head back in his direction.

“Remember that conversation we had a couple of weeks ago and you told me this really sad story about a little curly haired, green eyed boy who always wanted a pet to play with but was never allowed one because his sister was allergic?”

Harry’s eyes have gone so soft and he’s pink all over. 

“Louis, you didn’t…”

“Well, Gemma’s off doing her own thing in her own flat now and I just thought…”

“Louis, is there a cat in there? Please don’t tease me.”

Harry sounds like he might cry and it reminds Louis of that video of Kristen Bell freaking out over the sloth. Louis can’t wipe the crinkly eyed smile off his face.

“Close your eyes birthday boy.”

Harry does as he’s told but his legs are bouncing up and down and he’s still smiling hugely. Louis removes the struggling animal from the cage and attempts to calm her with a look. He’s not sure it’s effective. Her deep blue eyes seem to say, “I was there when you chose me. I know there wasn’t much in it between me and that tabby.” Louis ignores her…and the voice in his head that says trying to read messages in a cat’s eyes makes him crazy.

Louis stills Harry’s bouncing legs with a hand and then carefully places the white, fluffy kitten in Harry’s lap, praying that a) it won’t run away and b) it won’t scratch the shit out of him. Thankfully, the blue eyed beauty seems to understand her role as she merely settles down against Harry’s stomach, rubbing her head against his toned abs and mewling softly. Harry’s eyes fly open at the sound and when he looks down, his eyes do fill with real tears. He reaches out a trembling hand and strokes the fur on her back and Louis feels rather choked up himself, just watching.

“Who’s this?” Harry says in a tiny voice, looking up into Louis’ eyes.

Louis reaches out and wipes away the small amount of liquid that has brimmed over Harry’s eyes.

“This is Mishka,” Louis explains, brushing his hand over Harry’s as he joins in the petting, “she’s two months old and she’s all yours.”

“Mine,” Harry echoes, closing his eyes for a moment as he continues to pet her.

When he opens them again, he lifts her up out of his lap and brings her up to his shoulder, burying his face in her fur and kissing the top of her head. Mishka wriggles a little against him but then purrs loudly as he resumes his stroking.

“You’re both adorable,” Louis says without thinking.

But Harry certainly doesn’t mind. He’s beaming from ear to ear and when he looks down at Mishka and then back at up at Louis, he looks even happier, if that’s at all possible.

“She has your eyes,” Harry declares, placing Mishka down onto the bed where she flops over, bearing her stomach to Harry who leans down and scratches her.

“Oh and I thought it was my whiskers she inherited. She must have got those genes from her mother,” Louis sighs, clapping his hands against his jean clad thighs.

Harry shakes his head, chuckling.

“No,” he complains, “I just meant….she has the same colour eyes as you. So blue. So pretty.”

Harry is staring fondly down at Mishka when he says this but Louis can’t help the unfamiliar warmth that’s spreading through his body at the compliment. He takes this opportunity to grab the cake from the floor, lifting the lid on the box just as Harry looks up at him with wide eyes.

“There’s more?” Harry asks and he looks so endearingly surprised.

It’s as if Harry’s never had someone do something special for him before.

“Of course there’s more,” says Louis, sliding a lighter from his pocket and quickly lighting the cake.

The cake is chocolate and banana, Harry’s favourite according to Niall and Anne. It reads, “Happy adulthood kiddo” because well, Louis may be going soft but he’s not above teasing Harry. He probably never will be. Harry looks down at it, his face reflecting the light from the candles and he’s positively glowing. His eyes are still teary, his smile is still shaky and he looks completely overwhelmed with joy.

Louis begins to sing and that’s when Anne enters and joins in. Harry looks from one to the other with a huge smile until they finish and he gets to blow out his candles. Only then does Louis push his face down and into his cake followed by Anne and Louis both jumping on him, squeezing him tight. Neither mind that they both end up covered in cake too.

Anne leaves again after a few wet, noisy kisses and Harry looks up at him with what can only be described as a kind of reverence.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“You’re quite welcome Harold but it’s not over yet,” Louis says cheerfully.

“It’s not?”

“Nope. We’re having lunch together. Then, I’ll bring you back and you can spend the rest of the day with your family. Oh and it’s non-negotiable,” Louis informs him.

“I don’t want to negotiate anyway.”

Louis grins.

“Good, now go have a shower. You smell,” says Louis, wrinkling his nose on purpose.

Harry stands and grabs a few items of clothing from the corner of his room, oblivious to the fact that Louis is perving on every single muscle on his unfairly toned body. However, he whips Louis with the sleeve of the shirt he’s carrying on his way out.

“I do not smell,” he says indignantly.

He’s wrong of course. He does. He smells like warm, inviting sheets and fruit salad. Harry’s about to leave the room but then he abruptly turns back, skipping over to the bed and pulling Mishka up and off the duvet.

“You know you can’t shower with her right?” Louis says, arching his eyebrow.

Harry just shakes his head and then plonks the mewling kitten down into Louis’ lap. Louis’ hand automatically reaches out to stroke her head and when he looks up again, Harry is hanging onto the side of the door, tilting his head and watching with a bitten lip and toothy smile. Louis arches his eyebrow once more.

“I think she knows you’re her daddy,” Harry sighs happily.

“I am no such thing!” Louis protests but truth be told, he doesn’t mind the little furry creature that’s currently batting its head against his hand to get him to resume petting.

“Whatever you say,” Harry sing-songs before turning and skipping off to the bathroom.

When Louis looks down, Mishka’s staring up at him with a question in her big blue eyes.

“I’m not your daddy,” he assures her, patting her head weakly in case she might be disappointed.

However she just makes that same mewling noise and rubs her head against his leg.

“I knew you’d be okay with it,” he says, indulging her constant desire for touch.

He might actually be crazier than he thought.

….

When Harry sees the picnic basket and the bottle of wine that Louis’ carrying to the car, his eyes light up.

“We’re having a picnic?” He asks delightedly.

“It’s okay, I didn’t make the food alone. Zayn and Liam supervised,” Louis assures him with a grin.

Harry lets out a loud laugh and then jumps in the car.  It doesn’t take them long to reach their destination…the lake…and when they get there, Harry doesn’t look at all put off by the fact that last time they were here, Louis told him a horrible story about his past. They lay out on Louis’ picnic blanket together and Louis begins to unload the basket before them.

“Salt and vinegar chips and ham and cheese sandwiches….because I’m super fancy,” Louis says, gesturing to them with outstretched arms.

Harry just chuckles and plucks one of the sandwiches from the rug, taking a massive bite.

“You’re a bit of a pig Harold,” Louis says, although he’s kind of impressed.

Harry just bares his teeth, giving Louis a delightful view of the mushed up food occupying his mouth. Louis groans and pushes his face away. This causes Harry to laugh and he sprays half of his food out onto the grass and then seemingly chokes on the rest. After he manages to successfully swallow the last of it, they both dissolve into laughter at the ridiculousness of the moment.

“Next time, chew then swallow. Just ask if you’re not sure,” Louis mocks.

Harry playfully hits his thigh and Louis chuckles.

“So birthday boy, do you feel any different?” Louis asks, before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Not really. I mean I guess I can do a lot more stuff now but…”

“But you were doing most of it already,” Louis finishes, smiling around the next bite of food.

“Exactly.”

They eat in silence for a while but it’s not uncomfortable or awkward. It’s just peaceful. It’s like they’re so at ease with each other, they don’t feel the need to constantly fill the silence with chatter. After a while, they lie back on the rug and stare up at the sky, just watching the tendrils of blue beginning to poke through the trees.

“It doesn’t bring back bad memories?” Harry asks suddenly.

“Hmm?”

Louis was totally away with the fairies. Well…he might have been wondering how Mishka’s doing back at Harry’s house.

“This doesn’t remind you of what happened here?” Harry says, rephrasing the question.

“Oh,” Louis says, turning on his side to peer at Harry, “not really. It wasn’t the place. It was the person. Any significance I attach to it is of my own accord and I chose for it to be a kind of safe haven when all was said and done.”

“You’re brave,” Harry says quite simply, “and incredible.”

“I appreciate it Harold but I’m neither of those things.”

Louis knows he sounds rather negative but he’s just being honest. Harry pushes up onto his side now too and he’s frowning, his nose scrunching up a little with the tension.

“Can’t you take a compliment and believe it? This has been the best birthday ever. Not because of Mishka or that amazing cake which I can’t wait to eat later or any one specific thing but because of you. Because you did all this. And it’s amazing and it means you are too,” Harry says, kind of breathless by the end.

Louis bites the corner of his mouth before nodding hesitantly.

“Okay.”

Harry smiles serenely.

“Can I tell you what I wished for this morning when I blew out my candles?”

Harry’s expression is relaxed and open and Louis just likes to watch the way his lips curl up kind of sleepily at the ends, never staying completely upward but never drifting into a frown either.

“I think that defeats the purpose.”

However Harry just shrugs and then pushes Louis down against the rug. Louis looks up at him, a little confused but then Harry leans down to whisper against his ear and he stops thinking because Harry smells like shower gel and that intoxicating shampoo and Louis doesn’t really care what Harry’s about to do, as long as he stays close.

“I wished you would kiss me,” Harry sighs.

Harry pulls back a little to gaze at him but he doesn’t retract his body from where it hovers above Louis’ and all it takes is one trembling quirk of Harry’s lips and Louis is surging up to meet them, sucking Harry’s mouth into his own and tugging on his tongue for a few moments before gently pushing him away.

“Happy birthday,” he hums against Harry’s neck, trying to catch his breath.

Harry leans down and kisses his hair.

“Thank you.”

Louis knows that Harry thinks he kissed him as a birthday favour and honestly that explanation is a lot less unsettling than the one forming in his head right now so he lets Harry think exactly that.

They lie back in their former positions and Louis doesn’t protest when Harry shifts a little to lay his head on Louis’ stomach. He just cards his hand through Harry’s curls, humming the theme song for Friends under his breath until Harry joins in. They find themselves playing a game where they each try to guess the song that the other is humming. Harry wins 16-12. All in all, it’s the perfect day and Louis secretly kind of hopes Harry remembers it for a long time because truthfully, he knows he will.

…..

“Surprise!”

Harry’s face is priceless as he squeaks and grabs Louis’ arm, his eyes going wide. Louis just places a hand on the small of his back and pushes him forward so Zayn, Liam and Niall can all embrace him at once, patting him on the back and yelling their greetings. Anne flashes Louis a thumbs up as the rest of the people gathered in the small space return to their conversations while they wait for Harry to emerge from his current huddle. It’s not long before he does, simply turning to yank Louis over by the hand.

“Tell me this wasn’t you as well?”

Harry sounds near exasperated. Louis shakes his head, kind of wishing it had been him.

“He can’t take credit for everything H,” Niall laughs, “this one’s on your mum ‘n me.”

Harry grins at him and then hugs him close.

“Thanks Nialler.”

“No worries H. Your boyf- sorry, best friend here,” Niall grins evilly at Louis, “ informed me you would be unavailable for the majority of the day and I informed him that he better get you back here in time for a surprise party because there was no way I was missing out on seeing you on your birthday.”

“Just so we’re clear though Harry,” Liam says, grasping Harry’s shoulder, “Zayn and I are the ones who had to take care of Mishka while Lou searched for the cake. Little thing kept head-butting Zayn while he was trying to paint.”

“You should have seen the smudges. Louis fucking lied, H. He was all, ‘I’ve gotta go get his cake. I might be awhile. I’m not sure where you find a banana chocolate cake. But you’ll be fine. She’s harmless, won’t bother you a bit.’ Harmless my ass,” Zayn moans, leaning his head against Liam’s shoulder.

Liam strokes his hair sympathetically but Louis can tells he’s just plain amused.

“Don’t blame Mishka,” Harry and Louis say at the same time, turning to smile slowly at each other immediately after.

“Oh my eyes,” Zayn groans, “ugh the fond. It’s disgusting.”

“Oh shh,” Harry scolds, pushing Zayn’s face away without breaking Louis’ gaze.

Louis is kind of impressed with him. He’s also very attracted to him right now because Harry isn’t running up the stairs to change, even though he’s just wearing grey joggers and a baggy white shirt. His curls are not held back by anything and his green eyes haven’t really left Louis’ face since he got yanked over here. All in all, he just looks very….huggable.

“Yes Zayn, please kindly shut up,” Louis agrees, winking at Harry.

Harry slips away soon after that to talk to a few people and Louis feels a bit aimless which is when he turns to the alcohol and also when he starts chatting up some guy called…Gary…or Gavin…or maybe Greg. It definitely starts with G. Louis is quite sure.

“So....G…um…so…” He says awkwardly, looking up at the tall, light haired man.

He doesn’t usually go for his type but this one’s halfway between blonde and brunette so it’s kind of a grey area.

“Greg,” the man supplies, smiling at him, seemingly unbothered.

“How do you know Harry?”

“I don’t. I know Gemma. We used to date,” Greg says with a lazy grin.

Louis is shocked. His gaydar must be faulty.

“Oh no,” Greg touches his forearm, “I’m gay. I just didn’t really want to admit it at the time.”

“Oh,” Louis sighs, visibly relieved, “and here I was thinking, crap I’m coming onto a straight guy.”

“You’re coming onto me?”

Greg looks mighty pleased and Louis finds himself licking his lips as he eyes Greg’s rather impressive package.

“I suppose so,” he offers, not lifting his gaze.

Greg grabs his arm tightly and when they lock gazes, his eyes are burning with lust.

“Upstairs bathroom?” He asks swiftly.

Louis shuffles his feet. He can’t deny he’s desperate for it but this is Harry’s eighteenth birthday…and this is Harry’s house, can he really just go off and have sex with Harry’s sister’s ex in their bathroom and still feel like a good person? No, he realizes, he can’t. He can however, leave. It’s not like Harry seems to be looking for him anyway.

He finds Harry involved in what looks like a rather serious discussion with Zayn and Liam in the corner of the kitchen. They abruptly stop talking when they spy Louis striding towards them and Harry blushes a little.

“I’m leaving,” he says dramatically.

“What? Why?” Harry looks up at him with saddened eyes.

It’s all Louis can do not to beg for his forgiveness but it’s too late, he’s already made his decision.

“I have other plans Haz, We spent the whole day together,” Louis defends himself, watching as Zayn rolls his eyes and Liam shakes his head.

“Not helping,” He says, glaring at them both.

“Actually they are,” Harry says angrily, “because I’m done.”

“Excuse me?” Louis blanches.

Harry smooths out his features, composing himself and then exhales slowly before speaking.

“We did just spend the whole day together and it should be fine that you’re leaving. I shouldn’t care right? Well I don’t. Not anymore. You’re the best mate I’ve got,” Harry says more softly while Liam and Zayn grumble quietly in protest, “but I know now, I got it all backwards. That’s all this ever was. That’s all this will ever be. And you know what, you are completely wrong for me. I know that now.”

Louis is kind of speechless. He feels as though his tongue slipped out of his mouth and crawled away. He just can’t find the right words. Harry is done? Harry doesn’t care? What is happening? Why does Louis feel ten times dizzier than he did when he walked into the kitchen?

“Right,” he manages to say but his voice is strained and weak, “well I’m glad. I’m glad you see that now.”

Harry nods, his gaze unflinching and Louis slowly backs out of the room, his whole body starting to sway as he feels increasingly light headed. It’s just as he’s wrenching the front door open that Greg grabs his wrist.

“Well are we going back to yours or not?” He asks rather impatiently.

“Not,” Louis responds, “well I am. But you’re not coming with me.”

Greg’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why not?”

That’s when the nausea from a few too many poorly mixed drinks hits and he finds himself bent over and vomiting all over Greg’s shoes. After he’s completely emptied his stomach, he unfolds his body to see Greg’s look of disgust and anger.

“That’s why.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Kym aka A_side_of_homemade_mash aka the best friend for becoming my beta, editing and making me into the best writer (and person) I could possibly be ;) I love you....r cat (Mishka) and I promise that one day in the future (the very distant future), I will find you (not making it bc I have the culinary skills of well...Louis) a chocolate and banana cake.


	8. Chapter 8

It’s two weeks later that it happens. Louis hasn’t heard from Harry since the fateful night of the party and the silence has been more disconcerting than he ever could have imagined. Not to mention the fact that he knows Zayn’s been driving Harry home despite the fact that he won’t admit it or give Louis any updates on how Harry’s doing. Not even a slight indication as to whether he’s still even slightly interested in being friends with Louis.

 

Now it’s Friday night and Louis is standing at the bar of another gay club, Hunter’s, downing drink after drink and knocking back offer after offer from the guys around him. He doesn't quite know how to explain why he's suddenly uninterested in a quick fuck.  After all, what would he tell them? That the persistent 18 year old boy that he'd wanted to stop adoring him, had finally done just that and that for some reason, it had left him feeling empty and listless?

 

No, instead he had just taken to telling them he was having an off night. He knew it would spread like wild fire and ruin his stellar reputation but if it allowed him to sit at the bar all night unbothered, then he would just have to deal with it. 

 

Louis doesn’t know how to explain it. Ever since Harry told him he was done, he feels significantly less turned on by every guy around him. He supposes it’s just the strain of not knowing what’s going to happen with Harry. He can admit, after all, that he and Harry have shared a lot in the past couple of months and while he’d never say these words out loud, he knows he misses the boy. It’s just that the thought of needing anyone like that is terrifying and not at all something he wishes to confront.

 

It's just as Louis’ chugging down another drink, that he sees Zayn slide into his peripheral vision.

 

“Zayn,” he greets him, unsmiling.

 

Zayn looks all slicked back tonight; dark trousers, black t-shirt and enough gel to sink a battleship. He also looks significantly more excitable than usual, his hazel eyes lighting up as he grins at Louis.

 

“Lou, don’t be grumpy with me,” he pleads, squeezing Louis’ shoulder.

 

“Well are you going to tell me then?” Louis demands.

 

“Tell you what?”

 

“Don’t play dumb,” Louis grumbles, “how is he?”

 

“He’s fine. Better than fine actually. He’s kind of got a whole new lease on life,” Zayn says with a bright smile, oblivious to the fact that his words are like sharp pinpricks of pain in Louis' chest. 

 

“Good for him,” Louis sulks.

 

Zayn chuckles and then squeezes his shoulder once more.

 

“Hey, I've got something that'll cheer you up. I know you haven’t been getting up to much lately…or should I say getting  _it_  up much lately,” Louis smacks his hand away from his shoulder, “but ah, I hear there’s a newbie in tonight. Even heard Blake say he might be your type.”

 

“I don’t have a type,” Louis says automatically.

 

“Sure you do. You stray from it a bit if you have to…but you like ‘em a bit rough edged, a little less than refined,” Zayn says in a low voice.

 

“Speaking of less than refined, where’s your boyfriend?" Louis says with a snarky tone and a devilish smile.

 

Zayn glares at him.

 

“I haven’t seen him yet,” Zayn tosses his head around a bit, looking for him, then turns back to Louis with his eyebrows drawn low, “he better not be out there being felt up again.”

 

Louis’ memory flashes back to a night a couple of months ago, just before he’d met Harry, when they’d come here and Louis had ended up threatening four different guys who were dancing up against Liam. Liam was much too polite to be forceful with them, and Louis had seen the stormy look in Zayn’s eyes, deciding it was best he stepped in before Zayn decided to and ended up punching them all out, or worse yet, ripping their arms clean off their bodies. Possessive isn't a strong enough word for what Zayn is with Liam. 

 

“Right,” Louis says now, sending his friend a comforting smile, “you stay here Z. I’ll go find him for you. Maybe take a quick look at the newbie while I’m down there.”

 

Zayn looks visibly relieved as he grips Louis’ arm in a vice like hold and stares him down.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Louis’ mouth twitches upward once more and then he slips out of Zayn’s grip and travels away from the bar and down the stairs to the dance floor. He slips quite easily through the crowd given his size but as he gets closer to the middle, where he suspects Liam is stuck, he notices the tightly packed crowd that is situated there and wonders how he'll make it through. The newbie must be something special, Louis thinks offhandedly, as he pushes through the surging bodies of drunk and obnoxious men.

 However when Louis reaches the centre, the crowd isn't really the problem and Louis forgets the real reason he came down here. His mouth falls open and he suspects his jaw must be hanging by a very thin thread. Louis feels as though someone sucked all the air out of his chest and replaced his brain with another jelly-like substitute.

There, being pawed at and chatted up, in black jeans that are plastered to his shapely legs, a scoop neck white shirt and a leather jacket that finishes at his forearms, is one Harry Edward Styles. As Louis greedily takes in the stunning creature before him, that Elton John song comes to mind…the one that says…”I’m speechless and I don’t know where to start.”

 Louis drifts over to Harry and finally widens his line of sight enough to glimpse Liam standing beside him, a little off to the side, glaring at anybody who gets too close. Louis suddenly feels bad for what he said to Zayn about him. He’d fucking kiss Liam right now if he could...that is, if Zayn wouldn’t remove his lips with pliers for doing so.

 “Harry,” Louis says breathlessly and he feels like a right fool.

 Harry isn’t some 17 year old school boy anymore and it shows. His hair is gelled back into a high quiff, those trademark curls still tickling the base of his neck and he's wearing thick black motorcycle boots that make his legs appear longer than they already are. Louis' throat goes dry as he wonders, looking at Harry's extremely tight jeans, if he’s even wearing any underwear under there at all. Louis can't see how any would fit. 

 Harry turns to look at him now after winking at the tall, blonde guy who’d been fawning over him and Louis is unprepared for his less than enthusiastic response. He doesn’t look surprised to see Louis but he doesn’t look particularly pleased to see him either.

 

“Louis,” he says cordially.

 

Much too cordially, if you ask Louis. It feels like a slap in the face.

 

“How did you…I mean what is this?” Louis says, letting his eyes drop down Harry’s body….and that’s when he notices the final touch and almost swallows his tongue.

 

“Harry,” he croaks, his eyes popping out of his head as he reaches forward and runs his hand across the two swallows printed on Harry’s chest, “are those…you got a tattoo?”

 

He knows his voice sounds squeaky and off balance but the rug has been ripped out from beneath his feet and he’s just scrabbling to stay standing. Harry gives him a cool look, raises his eyebrow and pushes Louis’ hand away from his chest.

 

“Yes I did. And this…well Zayn gave me some pointers,” Harry explains, shrugging light heartedly. 

 

Someone gets in between him and Harry, and Louis’ so keyed up he’s about ready to shove them to the floor before he recognizes Liam’s face.

 

“Just going to go find Zayn,” Liam tells him but as he passes, he leans in to Louis’ ear and whispers, "you’re catching flies Lou.”

 

Louis quickly shuts his mouth and manages to hold it closed as he regards Harry whose eyes are flirting with something…or someone…behind his shoulder. It suddenly dawns on Louis that this isn’t just a random makeover and that Harry hasn’t just gone from cute schoolboy to sexy newbie for nothing.

 

“Pointers? For what? What do you need pointers for?” He questions Harry, biting the edge of his thumb.

 

“Oh, well you know….I’m of age now. Think it’s ‘bout time I lose the v card,” Harry says with a grin.

 

Louis feels like someone has just plunged a down pipe down his throat and through his stomach. He tries to breathe around its weight but there’s definitely something compressing every organ inside his body.

 

“Harry,” he says, gritting his teeth, “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t make my mistakes.”

 

Harry doesn’t look affected even in the slightest. He just slides his hand inside his pocket (Louis’ not sure how he even manages to fit it in there) and shrugs again. What’s with all the shrugging?

 

“I won’t. I’m older than you were at the time and well I’ve heard your story, haven’t I? Maybe special is something you get after a few bad experiences. No one’s first time is that great, or at least that’s what I hear. Just want to get it over with really,” Harry says complacently.

 

Louis grips his wrist and Harry raises his eyebrows but Louis doesn’t let go.

 

“You deserve special,” he says slowly, trying to communicate how important this is with his eyes.

 

Yet Harry keeps glancing away and smiling at the guys around him. Harry couldn’t care less about meeting his eyes so Louis tries a different tactic.

 

“Does Anne know?” He says desperately.

 

Harry just pulls his wrist away, looking mighty pissed off.

 

“No she doesn’t and she’s not going to find out. She thinks I’m staying with Niall. Maybe you should go have tea with her some time, you have a lot in common. Neither of you wants me to have a life!” Harry shouts.

 

“Harry, I’m just trying to pro-“

 

“Don’t say you’re trying to protect me. You’re not my older brother or my dad or whatever.”

 

Louis’ pretty certain of this fact too, considering the sight of Harry in a leather jacket with a tattoo makes him want to fuck Harry into next week. 

 

“I know,” he says, sounding defeated, “I’m sorry.”

 

Harry draws Louis' chin up with one finger and he feels uniquely vulnerable as he's forced to meet stunning evergreen eyes. 

 

“Is that all?” Harry asks, his eyes searching Louis’, “is that all that’s bothering you?”

 

Louis feels as though Harry is asking him more than what the question permits but he’s not entirely sure what it is he's looking for. Harry’s eyes narrow infinitesimally, seemingly analysing him but when Louis nods silently and utters a quiet "that's all," he drops his finger and steps backward. This is when a tall, dark figures gets between them and Louis watches with despair as the man squeezes Harry’s hip.

 

“Excuse me, do you want to dance?“ The stranger seemingly feels the weight of Louis glare as he glances between them now, “oh, um am I interrupting?”

 

It’s then that Louis recognizes him as Ben Winston, who happens to study film and photography at Louis’ university. He’s donned in a thick black coat and grey trousers, looking absolutely pretentious and out of place. However he’s got a sexy amount of stubble and a relaxed smile on his face, and even though Louis would like to plunge his head through the nearest wall, he cannot deny that he’s one of the most attractive guys here tonight. The thought makes Louis ill.

 

“Yes,” Louis confirms at the same time as Harry shakes his head.

 

Louis throws Harry an accusatory look but Harry just pulls Ben close by the lapels on his coat.

 

“I would love to dance with you,” he says without glancing Louis’ way.

 

Louis stares as they drift away from him and Ben turns Harry around, wrapping his gangly arms around Harry’s chest and moving them both. Harry closes his eyes and throws his head back, grinding back against Ben with a small smile gracing his lips.

 

 The lights from the roof flash across his face intermittently and illuminate his expression perfectly. He doesn’t look at all bothered by the absolute lack of space between himself and Ben. No, instead he looks wrecked. He looks like somebody who’s going to get very lucky tonight. He looks so damn fuckable and so damn ready to fuck whoever touches him the right way. 

 

Louis groans quietly and then pulls himself away, his eyes burning with the image of Harry’s lust ridden face beneath his eyelids.

 

……

 

“You’re staring,” Zayn whispers in his ear.

 

Louis’ body is bent over the railing on the top floor and his head is hanging down as he fails to pretend that he’s not watching Harry steaming up the dance floor with Ben. 

 

“Shouldn’t you be going? Liam’s already left,” Louis says sourly, never moving his eyes from Harry, who turns in Ben’s arms and attaches himself to his mouth.

 

It’s not the first kiss of the night but it still makes Louis cringe and his chest ache. It reminds him of the few times he kissed Harry and the way it felt to have all that unfettered attention directed his way. 

 

“Promised I’d stay and look after you,” Zayn says, rubbing his shoulder.

 

“Because you did such a great job of looking after Harry,” Louis mutters.

 

“I heard that.”

 

“I know,” Louis spits out, “I meant you to.”

 

Louis wrenches himself away from the railing to look at Zayn whose eyes are dark with anger.

 

“He’s not a child Louis. He knows what he’s doing. Besides, what’s it to you anyway? You didn’t want him,” Zayn cries out, throwing his arms wide.

 

Louis knows it’s true. Why does it irk him so much to see someone touching Harry like that? He doesn’t want to be with Harry. He just…he doesn’t want Harry to give it up to someone he meets in a place like this. He doesn’t want to see Harry getting down and dirty when he should be at home snuggling with Mishka and texting Louis videos of the funny noises she makes.

 

“I just want what’s best for him,” Louis says crossly.

 

Zayn’s face softens a little and he reaches across and rubs his thumb across Louis’ cheek.

 

“You should go home,” he says quietly.

 

“But-“

 

“Louis, he might make a mistake. He might sleep with the wrong guy but he has to learn. On his own. He’s not yours to protect and he’s realised that. Maybe you should too.”

 

Louis' throat feels dry and his body cold. Admitting that he has no hold over Harry feels like torture but for the first time in his life, he might just have to cave to somebody else. He might just have to admit that Harry is not under his control.  _He's not yours to protect._ _  
_

The truth is his little golden retriever doesn’t need a master and perhaps never did. So Louis hugs Zayn for a few moments before leaving the club.

He’s just standing in the cold, waiting for a taxi when he hears a familiar laugh and the sounds of people sucking face. When he turns around, he spies Harry and Ben stumbling out of the club, Harry’s arm tucked around Ben’s waist as they laugh between desperate, lingering kisses. 

 Louis turns away, praying they won’t notice him. Unfortunately nothing seems to be going his way tonight and he hears Harry whisper (or at least what Harry assumes to be a whisper) “I’ll be right back” before he stumbles over and places his hands on Louis’ waist from behind. 

 

“Louuuuuu,” he sings, clearly intoxicated.

 

Louis whips around to find hazy green eyes and flushed, warm cheeks. He finds Harry looking mighty fucking kissable with his full lips and his new tat sprawling across his chest and it's painful, it's too painful. 

 

“Harry,” he greets the younger boy weakly.

 

“Going home with him then?” Louis asks as Harry stays silent, just watching him with slightly unfocused eyes.

 

Harry nods eagerly and then buries his head in Louis' shoulder, planting a soft kiss on his shoulder blade. It makes Louis’ heart pulse which causes him to push Harry away with a frown. 

 

“Go then,” he says, his voice rough.

 

“Lou, you don’t get it. You never do,” Harry whines with sad, green eyes.

 

“You’re right Harry,” Louis agrees, “I don’t get why the boy who told me he wanted to sing to his husband at his wedding, would get drunk and lose his virginity to someone who probably won’t even remember his name tomorrow.”

 

Harry’s forehead creases and he bites his lip, looking seriously tormented but then Ben calls his name and he just turns around and stumbles back to him, laughing as he trips and Ben catches him belatedly. Thankfully, Louis’ taxi arrives a moment later and he's not forced to watch a minute more of their display.

 

…..

 

Louis wakes up at midday with three texts lighting up his phone.

 

Harry:  _Come to the bar around the corner from my house tonight? Ziam are coming and Ben too. Last night was great. Better than what I imagined. Stop worrying. Please come .xx_

Liam: You don’t have to go tonite mate 

Zayn: You better be there tonight. It’s important to Harry. 

 

Louis groans and then promptly screams into his pillow.  He picks up his phone again, considering and then quickly replies to all three at once.

 

Louis:  **See you all tonight. Can’t wait x**

 

…….

 

Louis was hoping to at least get a drink before running into Ben but as he approaches the bar, he finds Ben behind the counter. Fantastic. He could have at least been warned.

 

“Ben,” he says as brightly as he can manage, plastering a smile to his face.

 

Ben turns and looks Louis up and down with a critical expression. Louis is wearing a red, loose hanging singlet with blue jeans and white TOMS and looks way more suited to Ben’s job than Ben himself, who’s in a black trench coat and dark trousers. Yet he's the one copping the once-over. Honestly, what kind of bartender dresses like that? 

 

“You’re….”

 

Right, Ben doesn’t know his name. Louis only knew him because he’s very well known for his indie films throughout the uni.

 

“Louis,” he fills in, holding his hand out for Ben to shake.

 

Ben grasps it weakly and shakes but his eyes are still raking over Louis with displeasure.

 

“Can you recommend some quality lager?” Louis asks, smiling in a way that he hopes conveys the message, “I don’t give a rat’s ass that you fucked Harry last night.”

 

Ben doesn’t respond but he bobs down below the bar and grabs a glass, turning to fill it using one of the beer dispensers before sliding it across the bar to Louis.

 

“Thanks,” Louis says lightly but Ben doesn’t respond.

 

Once Louis has his drink, he quickly locates Liam and Zayn at a table near the makeshift stage at the front and coughs loudly as he nears them so they break apart from their soul sucking kiss.

 

“Louis, you came,” Liam says brightly.

 

“Glad you could make it mate,” Zayn adds but he’s much more subdued, his eyes watchful. 

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. You said it was important. Why is that? And where is Harry?”

 

“Well, that’s our cue actually,” says Liam, getting up from his stool and tugging on Zayn’s arm to get him to do the same.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“We’ll be back,” Zayn says, saluting him as the two of them quickly walk away and then much to Louis’ surprise, jump up onto the stage.

 

When he finally manages to stop staring at them, he takes in the rest of the stage and finds Niall seated towards the back with a guitar resting on his lap and Harry standing front and center behind the microphone stand. Now he gets it. Liam and Zayn take their places at two microphones in the back and Louis can practically feel the tension in the set of Harry’s shoulders as the occupants of the bar quieten down.

 

“So,” Harry says and the microphone squeals unpleasantly before a technician fiddles with the speaker and the sound abates, “I’ve pretty much been terrified of performing all my life…despite the fact that it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. So um…Zayn here has been helping me work on it in secret and the other boys are here for moral support so um…this is our little congregation, we don’t have a name yet…and ah, this is something I wrote.”

 

Harry extends the microphone stand so he doesn’t have to lean down as far and Louis begins to bite his fingernails nervously.

 

“Oh and um, this one goes out to Ben. Can’t wait for dinner next Friday,” Harry says, smiling broadly in the direction of the bar.

 

Louis feels like jumping on stage waving his arms in front of Harry’s face and screaming out, “remember me? Your first big crush?” Yet the urge passes and soon all he can feel is nerves as Niall begins to stroke the guitar and the backing track begins. When Harry finally opens his mouth and begins to sing, Louis feels faint. His voice is quiet and husky but the bar is so silent you could hear a pin drop and Louis feels his pulse slow as he listens to the lyrics that came straight from Harry’s heart.

 

_I’m like a crow on a wire_

_You’re the shining distraction that makes me fly_

_Home_

_I’m like a boat on the water_

_You’re the raise on the waves that calm my mind_

_Oh every time_

_And I know in my heart you’re not a constant star_

 

Suddenly Harry’s voice falters as he looks out upon the crowd and Louis sees Niall, Zayn and Liam all shooting each other concerned looks as Harry’s fingers tremble around the microphone and he transitions from impassioned singer to a deer caught in headlights. Without thinking, Louis moves from his position by the side of the stage to directly in front of it,  in Harry’s line of sight. Harry looks at him for a moment and the stare is so intense that Louis feels heat crawling up the base of his neck. 

He does his best approximation of an encouraging smile and then mouths “you can do this” flashing Harry a thumbs up sign. Harry still looks fearful but he wraps his hands more tightly around the microphone and then closes his eyes as he begins to belt out the chorus, his voice only shaking slightly.

 

Louis is so proud, it’s all he can do not to scream Harry’s name like he’s at a football game. Instead, he listens to the words Harry’s sings and as they dawn on him, he feels his excitement ebb a little.

 

_And yeah I let you use me from the day that we first met_

_But I’m not done yet_

_Falling for your_

_Fool’s gold_

_And I knew that you'd turn it on for everyone you met_

_But I don’t regret falling for your_

_Fool’s gold_

 

Harry’s eyes flash open as he sings three words, “I don’t regret” and it’s not towards the bar that he’s looking nor at any other attractive guy in the crowd. He’s looking Louis dead in the eyes and bending his knees and tilting his head back as he finishes the chorus off. Louis feels mixed up inside. Is Harry singing to him...for him? What about Ben? Does he really think Louis was using him?

 

Harry’s eyes open once more when he sings the first two lines of the second verse and he looks visibly distressed as he croons the lyrics, flashing Louis a tormented look that Louis still feels hopeless to understand.

 

_I’m the first to admit that I’m reckless_

_I get lost in your beauty and I can’t see two feet in front of me_

Harry continues to sing directly into Louis' eyes with a penetrating gaze that makes Louis feel like they’re the only two people in the room, and it’s obvious to Louis that whether it’s about him or not, the song comes from a place of pain. It comes from a place of yearning.

 It doesn’t surprise him, Harry is the most sensitive person he knows. What does surprise him, is when he looks up and sees the flecks of darker green in Harry’s eyes and realises that the only God damn thought in his mind is; "I want you to yearn for me.” 

 

It’s a revelation for Louis. A gigantic big stone in the little pebble pond that is his mind. He has feelings for Harry. Real feelings. He’d known he’d found him endearig and god had he been destroyed by the sight of Ben’s hands on him, but he’d thought…well, he’d hoped…it was just a protective instinct. How wrong he’d been.  

 

When Harry stumbles off the stage, grinning like the Cheshire cat, Ben practically pole vaults over the bar and they collide in the middle of the room, their lips merging into one collective shape and Louis feels worse than he did last night because now he knows. Now he realizes exactly how much he wants Harry. He wants him in a way he hasn’t wanted anybody else, not even Zach. Now that he’s finally ready to embrace it, ready to make Harry his and Harry is done with him. Harry has moved on. 

Louis makes it to the bathroom before he lets himself freak out, bending over the sink as soon as he breaks through the door, breathing heavily into the silence. He stares at himself  in the mirror for a moment, noting the panic in his usually clear blue eyes and it's overwhelming to realise that all of the turmoil inside of him is because of Harry. Just as he splashes a bit of water on his face, the toilet door flies open and Ben walks in, pausing uncertainly when he spies Louis. 

 

"Um," Ben says. Clearly very eloquent, thinks Louis, "are you okay mate?" 

 

Louis was not expecting this nor the speculative look in Ben's eye and he really doesn't know how to respond to it so he just gestures to his body with a cocky grin.

 

"Don't I look okay?"

 

Ben gives him a weird look, as if Louis is something strange and unfamiliar that he doesn't quite understand.

 

"You look pale. Like you've seen a ghost or something. Should I get Harry?" He asks, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the door.

 

Louis is immediately defensive.

 

"Why would you get Harry?"

 

"Well you calmed him down when he freaked out. Thought he could the same."

 

"I'm not freaking out," Louis denies hotly, "I just...I need to get out of here. That's what I need to do."

 

Louis doesn't wait for Ben to reply, just pushes him past him and out the door, not pausing to talk to anyone before he leaves the bar. His head is spinning wildly and when someone grabs his shoulder, he almost jumps out of his skin with fright. The maniac walks around to face him and of course...it's Harry. 

 

"Harry," Louis chokes out, just desperate to get away from the boy before he says something stupid.

 

"Why are you leaving?" Harry asks, tilting his head to the side.

 

“Ah…” Louis pauses, “I’ve got uni early tomorrow.”

 

“Lou,” Harry says, his mouth twitching, “tomorrow’s Sunday.”

 

Think with your brain, not your dilapidated heart, Louis reminds himself.

 

“Um, I meant I need to work on something for uni tomorrow.” 

 

It’s a lame excuse but it’ll have to do. Harry frowns for a moment but then just leans forward and cups Louis’ shoulder.

 

“Okay. I just wanted to say…I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I’m sorry I haven’t let you pick me up from school and that I brushed you off last night. I just don’t want things to be like they were before,” Harry says, letting his hand trail down Louis’ arm leaving a fiery trail of heat upon his skin, “I don’t want to bother you.”

 

“Harry,” Louis says quietly, “you never bothered me.”

 

Harry laughs loudly and Louis frowns at him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, chuckling, “but that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. Every time you wanted to hook up with somebody, you couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”

 

Louis takes a step in Harry’s direction and reaches up to grip the back of his hair tightly to get him to quieten down. Harry’s laughter quickly dies and he’s looking at Louis now the way he used to, with eyes that scream want.

 

“I was an idiot,” Louis says, deadly serious.

 

Harry studies him for a moment before knocking his arm away.

 

“Why? Because you didn’t want your stalker around when you were trying to get laid? Makes perfect sense to me….or at least now it does. Now that I’ve joined the ranks of those whose innocence has been taken,” Harry says smugly, grinning with dimples and all.

 

“Was he,” Louis swallows down the hurt, “was he gentle with you?”

 

Harry’s eyes are very shrewd and focused as they track Louis’ own, caressing his face and quickly darting down to his mouth before rising back up.

 

“Nobody has ever touched me like that. Honestly, it was amazing. My favourite part was-“

 

“I think I’ve heard enough,” Louis cuts in, preventing Harry from gushing about his new beau because it’s the last thing he needs right now.

 

“And um, it wasn’t just a one-time thing I guess? I mean, you’re going on a date…like a proper date?” Louis says unnecessarily, watching Harry’s face for any signs of doubt, for any signs that he might harbor secret feelings for Louis still.

 

However, the results are grim. Harry just runs a hand through the top of his hair and smiles wider.

 

“Yeah, he asked me out. Said he wanted to see me again. It’s so exciting! You were right Lou when you said it should be special….and it was. It is,” Harry says dreamily.

 

Louis wants to cuff him over the back of the head and tell him that there’s a whole dollop of special standing right in front of him...but he can’t. He doesn’t have the right. It’s his fault he lost Harry in the first place after all.

 

“Right…well…see you Monday? I’ll pick you up?” Louis asks hopefully.

 

“See you then,” Harry agrees, surprising Louis when he reaches across the space between them and pulls Louis into a tight hug that lasts for several moments.

 

“I missed you,” Harry says in his ear, “tiny Lou.”

 

Louis smacks him on the arm and Harry laughs and releases him after one last squeeze. There’s something off in Harry’s eyes but Louis is feeling unsettled enough on his own. He’s not in the mood to delve into why Harry’s feeling that way.

 

“Thank you, by the way,” Harry says softly, “for helping me get through that.”

 

“Oh,” Louis says, he’d forgotten all about the performance in the time they’d been standing here, “no problem.”

 

“So what did you think?” 

 

Harry looks shy and nervous now as he drags his foot across the footpath and bites his lip. Now that Louis’ aware of his feelings, it’s even harder to control his own fondness and arousal around Harry. He’d like to take Harry home and show him exactly what he thought of his performance, perhaps show him exactly what he thinks of the new and improved Harry too.

 

Looking at Harry now, it’s like all the issues that Louis assumed were getting in the way of even having sex with Harry, disappear. Suddenly age is irrelevant and as for experience, well that’s neither here nor there anymore. Then there’s the fact that Louis hadn’t wanted to be with Harry, knowing that nothing would come of it because Harry had deserved somebody who would be with him long after the initial fuck.

 

Now all that’s changed because yes, Louis would like to hear Harry rasp his name as he moves deep inside him but…he’d also like to wake up wrapped in his arms or wrapped around Harry himself. He’d like to wake up and kiss Harry lazily for hours, without taking it any further because that’s how much he appreciates Harry’s stupidly irresistible mouth.

 

“Harry,” he says, stilling his nervous movement by cupping his neck, “you were brilliant. That song…it was…”

 

Louis loses the power of speech just thinking about it again. Yet instead of looking comforted, Harry looks on edge and he pulls away, looking tense.

 

“Oh um yeah, wrote that a few years back,” he says, looking past Louis’ shoulder.

 

So it’s not about me, Louis realises. How idiotic. He’d thought that Harry was so enamored with him that he wrote it into a song. This is confirmation then. If Harry’s truly moving on, Louis needs to let him.

 

“Well it was beautiful Haz. But I’m not surprised. I knew you’d be talented.”

 

Harry’s eyelashes cast shadows over his cheekbones as he looks down, trying to hide a smile.

 

“Is that a smile I see, Harold? Better not show how much you love that compliment. Might ruin your new bad boy rep,” Louis teases, pinching Harry’s cheek.

 

Harry bats his hand away, flushed and grinning.

 

“Stop it,” he whines.

 

“Sorry. I don’t know though….jeans and a button down,” Louis comments, gesturing to Harry’s ensemble, “are you sure that’s edgy enough?”

 

Harry glares at him but his eyes tell a completely different story. They’re shining brighter than the moon overhead.

 

“I’m just saying…” Louis continues, “now that you’ve got a tat and you’re no longer a virgin, I might have to stop calling you sunshine.” 

Harry’s teeth break his lips as he grins right back.

 “What a damned shame.”

 

Louis laughs, tilting his head back a little and he’s quite relieved that Harry’s eyes still linger on his collar bones, the way they used to.

 

“But seriously,” Harry says now, “you don’t like any of it? As in, the changes I made?”

 

“Well,” Louis says, running his hand up Harry’s chest, “I thought you were just fine the way you were…but I can’t say that this,” Louis lets his thumb graze over one of the swallows and watches with fascination as goose pimples appear in its place, “isn’t a turn on.”

 

Harry is watching him with wide eyes and just barely parted lips but just as Louis leans in close, Harry opens his delectable mouth and ruins it.

 

“That’s what Ben said too.” 

“Right,” Louis sighs, sinking back down, “Ben.”

 

Harry’s eyes are pleading with him but what for? For Louis to leave him alone or for something else? He assumes the former.

 

“Well, I better go,” he says, starting to back away.

 

“Right,” Harry agrees with a sly look, “wouldn’t want to miss out on uni tomorrow.”

 

Louis gives him a disparaging look.

 

“I was confused.”

 

“Of course,” Harry says, nodding his head sagely but his eyes are still dancing with humor.

 

“Goodbye Harold,” Louis sighs, turning and striding away.

 

“Goodbye Lou,” Harry calls out after him.

 

Louis shuts his eyes for a moment as his feet carry him forward and he reflects on the thumping of his heart. He feels like he’s just had ecstasy or one of the few other stimulant drugs he tried in his youth. His whole body feels alive with sensation and it’s as though every thrum of his heartbeat bears the name “Harry.” Is this what it’s like to fall in love? Louis is unsure but god knows whatever it is, it’s the most terrifying and most addictive thing he’s ever felt in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once more to Kym for her services....which sounds kind of dirty...but actually I just mean her editing skills :P Even though she's got a hectic life and I'm nagging at her constantly, she makes the time for this story and for me. So thank you. xo


	9. Chapter 9

Louis stops in front of Harry's house and then turns to the boy with a fond smile as he notes the smudge of pen on his cheek. 

 

"What were you doing? Rubbing your face up against your book?" He asks, taking Harry's cheek in his palm and rubbing his thumb across the curve to erase the mark.

 

Harry's head tilts slightly in his palm but he just laughs.  

 

"Well kind of. I fell asleep in history," He confesses with a grin.  

 

Louis shakes his head at him.

 

"And why on earth were you so tired young man?" 

 

Harry rolls his eyes.

 

"Ben took me out for dinner. Then we....went back to his place for a bit...if you know what I mean."

 

Harry's looking up at him from underneath his lashes and Louis can't stand it. He looks beautiful in his poorly buttoned school shirt with his curls having descended into a fluffy mess after a day out in the cold, rough wind.

 

"I know what you mean," he says quickly, before Harry can add any detail, "honey, the tortilla chips know what you mean."  

 

Harry's eyes crinkle slightly as he smiles warmly at Louis, making his stomach squirm because apparently Louis' a bloody teenage girl and everything Harry does is fucking adorable.

 

"Nice friends reference."

  

"Thanks. Maybe we could watch some?" Louis suggests, thinking about the last time they had done so when Harry snuggled into him too close.

At the time, it had made him slightly nervous and uncomfortable. He wasn't prone to that kind of innocent affection after all and he hadn't wanted to explore the feeling bubbling up in his throat when Harry lay his head in his lap, and then rubbed it up against his stomach like a sleepy kitten begging to be stroked. Now he'd give his right leg to have Harry soft and sleepy on his lap. 

 

"Um," Harry says, dodging Louis' eyes, "Ben's actually coming over."

 

Louis' eyes widen with surprise and he leans away from Harry. 

 

"He's meeting Anne? Already?" 

 

"Well...we get on really well and I told him that mum might have a problem with it. I mean, he's older than you. So he thought he should just talk to her, get her on side."  

 

"Get her on side," Louis scoffs, "he obviously doesn't know anything about her."

 

"Well," Harry says, dipping his head a little, "it has only been a few days."  

 

"Exactly," says Louis with a firm tone.  

 

"Oh Lou," Harry whines, throwing his arms around Louis' shoulders, "please don't worry about me. Ben's great."  

 

That's exactly why I'm worried, Louis thinks to himself.  

 

"Just go inside. You might want to prepare your mother for what's about to happen," Louis says with a sigh.  

 

Harry begins to rise from the car, chewing the inside of his mouth for a second before ducking down and leaving a quick kiss in Louis' hair. It's platonic as all hell and Harry just runs off, stumbling over his own feet, with a casual, unaffected grin and a lazy wave. However Louis stills completely.

 

He’s stuck where he is, just staring at the front door of Harry's house with longing until finally someone emerges and breaks the spell. It's Anne coming to take out the rubbish but when she sees his car idling by the side of her house, she drops the bag at her feet and marches over, looking stormy eyed. Louis visibly cowers.

 

"Are you an idiot?"

 

Louis' head snaps up and his eyes water a little as her piercing stare cuts right through to his core.

 

"That depends on who you talk to."

 

It would probably be a much more impressive display of confidence if his voice wasn't wobbling slightly as he said it. Anne just shakes her head and then opens the door and gets in.

 

"Um..."

 

"I don't have time for your sarcasm, your smart ass comments or any of the rest of it. I have a bone to pick with you," she says watching him carefully as his hands tighten on the steering wheel and his body goes rigid.

 

"You promised me," She says sternly.

 

"I didn't hurt him," Louis lies, feeling the beginnings of a tension headache.

 

"Bullshit," Anne swears, "I know something must have happened. This is the first time it's been you and not Zayn dropping him home in weeks."

 

"So we had a little disagreement, so what?"

 

"So what? So now my son comes to tell me that I'm supposed to meet his new 23 year old boyfriend this afternoon," Anne says crossly.

 

"Well I wish there was something I could do about that but there isn't."

 

Louis' voice is cutting. He's really not in the mood.

 

"Do you?"

 

"Do I what?" He snaps.

 

"Wish you could do something about it?"

 

"Of course I do. I want to protect Harry just as much as you do and-"

 

Anne suddenly grabs his jaw, forcing him to look at her and cutting off his speech.

 

"Cut the bullshit Louis William Tomlinson. It might work on my son but it doesn’t work on me."

 

"I don't know what you're talking about," He says but he can feel his left eye twitching tellingly.

 

Anne turns his head this way and that with a calculating look before letting her hand drop.

 

"Yep. I knew it. You've fallen for him," Anne says, completely matter-of-fact.

 

"No...I don't think...I mean I don't do that....just-"

 

"I'm not going to say a word," Anne interrupts his rambling, giving his shoulder a light squeeze.

 

"....but _you_ probably should," she adds, giving him a meaningful look.

 

Louis internally debates continuing with the denial but Anne is much too perceptive. She's a mother after all.

 

"Why would you want that? You're the one who warned me not to get involved with him," Louis reminds her.

 

"Yes, because I didn't want you to take his innocence and then leave him high and dry. I didn't think you'd end up falling for him. If I did..."

 

"If you did?"

 

"I would have rooted for you two from the beginning."

 

Louis' mouth falls open a little and then he snorts.

 

"Well great lot of good that does."

 

"Louis, you need to tell him."

 

"I can't," Louis groans, "he's moved on. There's no point."

 

"He's known Ben three days Louis! He's known you for months and spent every waking hour either with you, talking about you or thinking about you. This Ben- I just know, he's not good for him. Not like you could be. Louis please," Anne begs and she looks just like Harry when he does his puppy dog eyes...but Louis is not falling for it.

 

"I can't. I'm sorry Anne. If Harry wants his whirlwind romance and it makes him happy, then I can't get in the way."

 

Louis reaches across and grasps Anne's shoulder now, massaging lightly as her face creases with worry.  Her eyes tear up a little as she looks at his hand.

 

"I wish it was you coming to dinner," she sighs.

 

"You and me both babe. You and me both."

 

Anne gives him one last tired, strained smile before hopping out the car and waving him off. Just as he drives away, he sees what he thinks might be a flash of curls disappearing from the front window.

 

.....

 

"What do you want to watch?" Harry asks.

 

He's lying on his stomach on his bed in a worn out grey jumper and baggy white pants and he looks so soft and foldable that Louis' having a hard time resisting the urge to pull him close.

 

It's a Friday night and miracle of all miracles, after two weeks of intensive dating, Harry is not seeing Ben tonight. So naturally Louis has invited himself over, informing Harry that it was non-negotiable. Yet Harry hadn't seemed to mind when he'd opened the door to Louis in his sailor pajama bottoms and an oversized black tee. He'd giggled girlishly and then tugged Louis into his arms, burying his nose in Louis' hair and squeezing until Louis had begged for release.

 

"I don't mind," Louis says, knocking his shoulder against Harry's, "as long as it's not love actually again."

 

Harry pouts at him for a moment but when Louis gives no response, he jumps up from the bed, running his hand through Mishka's fur on his way out of the room. Mishka takes the opportunity to jump up in his place. She settles down on the covers next to him and Louis runs an errant hand through her fur as he begins to speak. 

 

"So Mish, do you think daddy should be with me instead of Ben?" He says, turning to study her face.

 

Mishka just stares at him blankly so he lifts his hand off her fur and predictably, she mewls in protest. 

 

"I knew you'd see it my way. I think personally, that your two daddies should be together, don't you?" Louis doesn't look for a reaction this time, "I mean, what if you grow up thinking Ben's your daddy?"

 

Mishka mewls again as he scratches behind her ear.

 

"Exactly. He probably would have chosen that chubby little tabby over you. But not me," Louis says, sitting up and wrapping his hands around her stomach before bringing her face up to his, "not me Mishka. I would never choose anybody over you."

 

He rubs his nose against her cold, wet one. 

 

"No I wouldn't, would I? You adorable little kitty," he coos, "Who’s an adorable little kitty? Yes, you are."

 

"Are you using baby talk on my cat?" Harry says from the doorway, poorly suppressed laughter in his tone.

 

Louis drops Mishka back onto the bed and turns around to find Harry stood with two DVD's in his hand and a shit eating grin on his face.

 

"Don't look at me like that. I don't do affection for furry things. I was just...practising for a play," Louis blusters.

 

Harry cracks up at this, doubling over with mirth as Louis throws pillow after pillow at his shaking form. However Harry just starts advancing on him, throwing the DVD's to the side before jumping onto the bed and pushing Louis back against the covers with one hand.

 

"You adorable little kitty," he imitates, pursing his lips as he digs into Louis' ticklish spots, "who's an adorable little kitty?"

 

Louis squeals and tries to fend him off but he just keeps coming and Louis is too weak from the giggles ripping through him to do much about it. Yet one minute Harry's hands are by his waist and they’re both making a ruckus and the next, his hands are combing through the ends of Louis' hair and his face has gone completely serious.

 

"Harold,"

 

"Hmm?"

 

Harry sounds more than a little distracted.

 

"We gonna watch a movie or what?"  

 

Harry grins as his eyelashes sweep prettily along his cheeks and then he rolls away. Louis breathes out a quiet sigh of relief.

 

However the relief is short lived because as soon as The Holiday begins, Harry pulls him between his legs and winds his arms around him, resting his head in between Louis' neck and shoulder. It's a very couple-y thing to do...which should be satisfying for Louis, but how can it be when he knows it doesn't mean the same thing to Harry as it does to him? It's certainly not satisfying hearing Harry's phone buzz from across the room a dozen or so times throughout the movie and knowing that it's probably Ben keen to hear from his boyfriend.

 

All it would take is for Louis to turn his head slightly and they would be kissing. That's all. Their kissing hadn't been a big deal before Ben. At least not for Louis. Sure he had enjoyed it a little more than he expected (if only he hadn't been so fucking oblivious) but it had mostly been his way of teasing Harry. Now a kiss feels like this massive, unattainable goal. Kissing Harry now that he knows how he feels would be sweeter than any kiss he's had in his life. 

 

Yet Louis doesn't want to steal the kiss and he doesn't want to kiss Ben's Harry. He wants to kiss Harry because Harry belongs to him and only him. So he resists the urge, turning his head just a fraction so that Harry's silky curls press against his face and their fruity smell fills his nose. The corner of Harry's mouth twitches slightly as he does this, but Louis doesn't know whether Harry is pleased or just simply amused.

 

Harry makes it through three quarters of the movie before his droopy eyelids fall closed and he lets out a quiet snore that Louis finds so sweet and endearing that he turns in Harry's legs, smoothing a hand across his hair. When did he become such a sap? He then finds himself sweating slightly as he maneuvers Harry into a lying position and forces his body under the covers.

 

Once inside his bed, Harry smiles in his sleep, his eyelashes fluttering a little as he pulls his coverlet tighter around himself, scrunching it in his fist like a newborn infant. Louis has never felt a bigger swell of fondness or emotion in his life than he does in that moment, just looking down at Harry’s peaceful form. Harry is suddenly the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and the most beautiful thing he'll never have. Looking at his face softened by sleep is getting physical painful so Louis quietly descends the stairs and drives back home to his cold and empty house.

 

When he wakes in the morning, there's a text from Harry.

 

Harry: _Thank you for tucking me in. Who's an adorable little kitty, Lou's an adorable little kitty ;) .xx_

 

.....

 

"I don't want to play Harold," Louis says, giving Harry a firm look, "just verse your boyfriend again."

 

"Ben doesn't want to play again, do you babe?" Harry consults Ben, raising his eyebrows.

 

Ben stares at him for a moment and Louis is quite annoyed to realise that they're having a silent conversation with their eyes. After a moment, Ben shakes his head and Harry leans forward and lightly presses his lips against Ben's. Louis feels his face crease up in response and only just manages to smooth it out before Harry turns his way.

 

"Please Lou," he says, using those big green eyes to his advantage.

 

"I don't even know how to play pool!" Louis whines, hanging his head.

 

"I'll teach you. It's not hard," he says with a grin.

 

Louis throws Zayn, Liam and Niall a pleading look at their nearby table but none of them display any pity. Assholes.

 

"Fine," he says grudgingly, "but if you end up with a cue stick in your eye, you know who to blame."

 

Harry just chuckles and beckons him over to the pool table.

 

"Okay, so you see this one," he says picking up a white ball from inside the triangle, "this is the cue ball. This is what you're aiming to hit and-"

 

"Wait what? What are the other balls for then?" Louis asks, confused by the concept already.

 

Harry gives him a warning look.

 

"Well if you hadn't interrupted, what I was going to say was, and you use it to hit your balls."

 

"Oh," Louis says, abashedly, "which ones are mine?"

 

"Well when we start, someone breaks," Louis' face creases with confusion again, "which means someone makes the first shot…and whatever type of ball they get into the pocket, becomes the type they're aiming to hit. Either solids or stripes."

 

"I want to be stripes," Louis says eagerly.

 

"Of course you do," Harry says eyeing Louis' black and white striped shirt with a slightly fond grin.

 

"Anyway, so see this one," Harry says, picking up a small black ball, "this is the most important one. The eight ball. After you get rid of all your other balls, the aim is to hit this one into the pocket. And whoever does it first wins."

 

"So basically," Louis says casually, "you're trying to get the balls in the hole?"

 

Harry nods, openly smirking.

 

“Shouldn't have any trouble then," Louis remarks with a wink.  

 

Harry laughs much to Louis' delight, but then to his displeasure he presses another kiss onto Ben's lips as he passes him to get to the other side of the pool table.

 

The game starts off okay, other than the fact that Louis has no idea what he's doing and gets distracted by the sight of Harry arching over the table with his ass pressing tightly against his jeans. It quickly goes south as Harry sinks ball after ball and Louis misses each and every time.

 

"Here, let me help you," Harry says suddenly, rounding the table.

 

"Yeah okay," Louis agrees, not realising that Harry helping him requires the boy to stand directly behind him, with his crotch pressed up against Louis' ass as he reaches over to adjust Louis' grip on the pool cue.

 

"Just put your thumb here," Harry advises, moving Louis' fingers around as he pleases.

 

Louis' blood feels hot in his veins and then Harry presses in tighter, his hands trailing down to Louis’ hips and Louis lets out a quiet but breathy gasp.

 

"Just widen your stance a little. You need more space I think," He says softly in Louis' ear.

 

Surely Harry knows this isn't an appropriate position to be in with another man in front of your boyfriend? Yet Harry doesn't retract his hands and if he wants to give Ben a show, Louis' going to make damn sure it’s a good one. He thrusts his ass back against Harry's crotch and moves up and down, teasingly slow.

 

"You're right Haz" Louis breathes, "just need to loosen up, get some blood flowing."

 

"R…right," Harry stutters slightly, "I think you're good now."

 

He steps away and Louis smirks as he realises he's been neglecting an opportunity to show off his best asset this whole game. So he leans down as far as possible, pushing his behind outward as he then makes his shot, managing to sink two balls in one. When he looks back to gauge Harry’s reaction, Harry’s eyes loom large in his face and he looks more than slightly disturbed.

 

After that, things go a little more smoothly for Louis and Harry seems to lose focus, missing shots all over the place until finally Ben decides to intervene. He walks over to Harry just as Harry's about to make a shot and removes the pool cue from his hand. Harry looks up at him with a questioning glance but Ben just grips his jaw tightly and kisses him fiercely for a few moments to the cheers and catcalls of the other lads. When Ben finally tears his mouth away, Harry appears more than rejuvenated as he looks back at Louis and Louis quickly downs his drink which had been resting on a nearby table.

 

Harry ends up winning, as to be expected, given its Louis’ first time. They stumble back to the table with the lads but when Ben starts trailing not so subtle kisses down Harry's throat, Louis wrenches himself away and takes his leave in the bathroom. Thankfully, he’s all alone so there’s no one there to watch as he presses the palms of his hands against his eyes before kicking out at the wall in frustration.

 

"What's wrong with you?"

 

Zayn is standing in the doorway, looking him over with concern and Louis is in such a state that he can't be bothered to lie. 

 

"Is he trying to kill me?" He whines.

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Harry. One minute, his cock is pressed up against my ass. The next, he's wrapped around his boyfriend and giggling like a teenage girl," Louis cries out, pacing the room.

 

"So you're jealous," Zayn concludes coolly.

 

"I know what you’re thinking. I'm an idiot for only just realising now but...it's not going away. I just want him more all the time."

 

Louis' voice is tight with restrained emotion.

 

“I can help you," Zayn says, pulling Louis into a hug.

 

"How?" Louis asks into his shoulder.

 

"I think Harry knows Lou. I think he knows you're jealous but I think...I mean, I think he just assumes that you miss having him follow you around and-"

 

"No, that's not what it is at all!" Louis says desperately.

 

"I know, I do. But maybe….I dunno, maybe he's waiting for you to do something about it. Like…prove it to him."

 

"Do you really think so Z? Cause I saw him in there with Ben. They were making goo goo eyes at each other," Louis says dejectedly.

 

"I guess you don't see how he looks at you then," Zayn sighs.

 

Louis pauses.

 

"Well...even if you are right. Even if there is a chance...I mean, what am I supposed to do? How do I win him back?"

 

"That's where I come in," Zayn grins, wriggling his fingers, "I'm going to make the magic happen."

 

"What kind of magic?"

 

"Well," Zayn says cautiously, "don't get mad but one time when I was at your place, I was looking through your stuff and I found something..."

 

Zayn continues to explain his idea while Louis listens avidly, pretty much desperate at this point.

 

"So what do you think?" Zayn asks, looking hopeful.

 

"I think you're mad as a hatter....but I'm on board."  

 

Zayn's grin is wide as he pulls Louis close and whispers in his ear.

 

"Let's go get you your boy then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned! Next chapter is going to be oodles of cuteness, I promise x  
> Also, any and all feedback is appreciated as always + thanks for reading!  
> And again, thanks to Kymmy.K (much better than the other one, if you ask me) for being the best beta ever...well she's the only beta I've had actually....but still ;) xo


	10. Chapter 10

“I still can’t believe you went through my stuff, you asshole.”

 

Zayn stretches his legs out across the bed, planting his arms behind his head as he flutters those thick black eyelashes against his shapely cheekbones, feigning innocence.

 

“It was right there. How could I resist Loueh?”

 

Louis who had been stretched out along the recliner that lies at the end of his bed sits up properly to give Zayn a disbelieving look.

 

“I believe it was shoved inside the bottom of a box exploding with other useless crap…. in the top of my closet…..near the very back…. buried under a pile of torn up TOMS… but yeah, you twat, it was right there.” 

 

Louis rolls his eyes as Zayn does that casual, I’m-too-laidback-to-care shrug that for some unfathomable reason, Liam seems to find so attractive. Then again, Louis’ one to talk. He did sleep with the lad after all.

 

Though in his defense that had more to do with the fact that Zayn looks like a marble sculpture, painted with dark ink smudges and sprayed with impure thoughts, and less to do with the fact that he’s mastered the art of polite disinterest. Come to think of it, Zayn would probably enjoy that description and Louis’ not feeling particularly favourable towards him in this moment so he squashes the compulsion to share it with him.

 

“Well you said you thought you had an old box of smokes up there. So I went looking. Couldn’t help it if a certain box happened to tumble down and a certain tape happened to fall out with it. Okay….quit glaring…so I didn’t have to put it in the VCR but if you had seen my name with those three words next to it, surely you would have-“

 

“Okay, okay I get your point,” Louis huffs, “I guess I should be grateful you didn’t bring it up earlier.”

 

“Exactly. I kept it to myself. Didn’t tease you. Didn’t even tell Liam. I rather feared I wouldn’t live to tell the tale,” He confesses with a grin, “however I figured in this case, you might allow me to mention the unmentionable knowing I had a plan.”

 

“I still don’t see how this is going to win Harry over,” Louis mumbles, feeling less than assured.

 

“I told you…it’s a three phase plan. First step, show young Harold that unlike everybody else, you’re not afraid to be vulnerable around him.”

 

“I am not afraid of-“

 

“Phase two,” Zayn says firmly, silencing Louis’ disgruntled protests with a look, “show Harold that you made a stupid mistake. As I pointed out last night, you’re going to have to get real personal, real quickly.”

 

Louis’ eyes have gone wide with alarm at this pronouncement. He figured he’d have to alter his hard and steadfast rule that he never get too close, too intimate with people but well, he’d thought of that as more of a belated consequence of the plan succeeding. If he gets Harry to give him the time of day, then he can work on softening his hardened heart, but now Zayn, the master of the plan, is telling him that it’s now or never? Great.

 

However Zayn catches his eye and his eyebrows draw together, creating an increasingly broody look that Louis’ come to associate with Zayn being stoned and often delving into his “deeper consciousness” as he likes to refer to it.

 

“Or…maybe we could buy you some time. I just don’t want Harry to give up hope completely. He’s gotten serious with Ben pretty quickly is all and I wouldn’t want-“

 

“Do not mention that name in my flat, do you hear? It’s banned. It goes on the list of forbidden topics along with The Wanted,” Zayn cringes, they’d both always hated that band, “and everything you witnessed on that tape.”

 

Zayn pulls his thumb and pointer finger across his mouth, effectively zipping his lips.

 

“But I suppose you’re right,” Louis sighs, “if I don’t get a move on, I’ll lose any window of opportunity I might possibly have.”

 

Zayn claps his hands together excitedly…or as excitedly as a 21 year old art student with an attitude problem can, anyway.

 

“Great. So after that phase three,” he announces, smiling warmly.

 

“About that…”

 

“No, Louis.”

 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

 

Louis is indignant, but Zayn just arches his eyebrows in that way that is somehow so much more impressive than when Louis does it.

 

“You were going to say that you’d rather leave the speech out of it. Let the gestures speak for themselves,” Zayn says, failing miserably in his attempt to imitate Louis’ strong Yorkshire accent.

 

Louis’ indignant expression deflates quickly, Zayn’s eyes sparkling knowingly as he crosses his arms and stares Louis down.

 

“Well…maybe…but what’s wrong with that? If he can’t read between the lines, maybe I don’t want to be with him anyway,” Louis lies.

 

“You’re a lying sack of shit. If I were Harry, I wouldn’t want to be with somebody who wasn’t brave enough to make the first move, especially given the fact that I’d be the one who’s been chasing them around like a lovesick puppy for months.”

 

“You are certainly not Harry,” Louis agrees, pretending to eye Zayn’s figure, “wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

 

Zayn just snickers.

 

“Sorry mate but it’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”

 

“I’m just glad I got to be with Liam a few weeks later to make up for it,” Louis quips, pretending to shield his face with his hands.

 

…Or maybe not pretending. He did, after all, see Zayn “accidentally” push a footie player into a mud puddle at a party when he asked for Liam’s number a couple of months back.

 

“You owe me two cartons of cigarettes, jerk,” Zayn says with flashing eyes.

 

Ah but it’s worth it just to shut him up about phase three.

 

“All cause I broke a silly little rule that you and Liam concocted without me? No using the ‘I slept with your boyfriend before you’ remark in an argument? What kind of rule is that?” Louis says, launching himself from the recliner to the bed.

 

Zayn is clearly already over Louis’ misdemeanor, as he leans down and runs a hand over Louis’ hair. Louis grins up at him just waiting to be chastised, ever the cheeky schoolboy.

 

“The kind that prevents me from taking a spray can to those pearly white TOMS you’re yet to sully with your impure life,” Zayn says, poking him in the side.

 

“You know, Liam’s not nearly so violent. He just gets a little crease in between his eyebrows,” Louis reaches out and flicks the same spot on Zayn, much to his annoyance, “and then he gets all insecure about his moves.”

 

This seemingly troubles Zayn as he rolls over on his side, looking broody again and catches Louis’ wrist as Louis deigns to try and flick him again.

“What do you mean by that?”

 

Fuck, thinks Louis. Liam is going to beat me to a pulp when he finds out. Well, he probably won’t. He’s rather placid, but he will give him that look, that one that says, “I’m so disappointed in you, I don’t even need to voice it for you to get the picture.” Oh well, better make the best of a bad situation, Louis decides.

 

“Well…it’s just…he said…”

 

Yes, great job, he congratulates himself, you’re making things so much better.

 

“Louis,” Zayn cuts off his pussyfooting, “don’t beat around the bush. If my boyfriend’s confiding in you instead of me, I’d like to know why.”

 

“Well he’s not going to tell you he’s worried he’s not enough for you in bed, now is he?!” Louis cries out exasperatedly.

 

Louis can hear the doctor’s diagnosis echoing quietly in his head. I’m sorry Louis, you do indeed have foot in mouth syndrome. No, there’s nothing we can do. I extend my deepest sympathies….with a complimentary blowjob. Wait, Louis halts his brain, this is no time for erotic doctor fantasies.

 

“He…what? He told you that?” Zayn’s mouth turns down and he looks seriously cut up.

 

 

“Look Z…it wasn’t because he doesn’t trust you. It really wasn’t. He just came to me because he was embarrassed. And he wasn’t the only uncomfortable one trust me, I’d rather not hear about your sexual encounters. Frankly, I think that should be a new rule, to replace the other rule,” Zayn glares at him. Right, slightly off topic. “It’s just hard to tell your boyfriend you’re worried you’re not pleasing him.”

 

 

There, he can have a legitimate, serious conversation. First step, Ziam’s love life. Next step, his own.

 

“But why would he think that?” Zayn asks slowly, confusion seeping out of his eyes and across his face. “It’s not as if we don’t have fun. I mean, I certainly do. I always…you know. Do you think I should be giving him more encouragement?”

 

Louis tries very hard not to a) grimace or b) puke as unwanted images of Zayn and Liam together enter his mind.

 

“Well, maybe. I mean you could just say from time to time, “Hey Li, you’re not half bad at sucking dick. Here’s a gold sticker babe.” Positive reinforcement and all that,” Louis says with an exaggerated wink.

 

Zayn punches his shoulder.

 

“Can’t you be serious for like five minutes, you asshole?”

 

Louis chuckles.

 

“Don’t you know me at all Zayn Malik? I’m a perpetual child.”

 

“Right, I’m going to go see Harry then,” Zayn says, refusing to look in Louis’ direction as he moves his body forward into a sitting position.

 

Louis yanks him right back down.

 

“None of that petal. You know I didn’t mean it,” Louis says, pulling Zayn close with an arm tucked tightly around his waist.

 

“You just don’t want me spending time alone with lover boy,” Zayn mocks.

 

Louis won’t be one upped though.

 

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Possessive.”

 

“At least he’s actually my boyfriend,” Zayn shoots back.

 

Louis elbows him sharply in the side and smiles, quite pleased with himself, when Zayn groans.

 

“You’re right, cheap shot,” Zayn allows, sounding winded.

 

“Besides, the lovely Liam won’t be your boyfriend much longer if you don’t heed my advice. So listen close pumpkin,” Louis warns the ashen haired boy by his side.

 

Zayn looks up at him now with shining dark eyes, nuzzling his head against Louis’ shoulder as he gets comfortable. It’s moments like these that Louis sees the best side of Zayn; the boy who still reads Harry Potter before he goes to sleep at night and who finally kissed Liam after one too many drinks at a party, only to come around to Louis’ place the next day, panicking and asking whether Liam had seen him throw up behind the bushes a mere ten minutes later.

 

It’s moments like this that bring out his own best side too because seeing the vulnerable side of Zayn softens his sometimes brash humor just a little. Though the two like to throw barbs back and forth and have always done so, there’s an unspoken rule that Zayn follows where Louis leads. Louis’ never enforced it or anything and doesn’t feel the need to. It just happens to fit them perfectly and though it’s almost enjoyable when Zayn arcs up and reverses their roles, they always fall back into this pattern; the pattern of Louis being the solid base of support in Zayn’s time of need.

 

It’s no more than twenty minutes later that they finally reach the end of the discussion, Zayn’s expression having brightened a bit with understanding and hope.

 

“You don’t think that’s too obvious? He won’t suspect I’ve talked to you, will he?”

 

Doubt crosses Zayn’s face briefly before Louis squeezes his waist affectionately and smiles reassuringly.

 

“No, Zaynie. It’s foolproof. At least I hope so, because if he finds out we had this conversation…I’m going to have to let him see the tape or something just to make up for it.”

 

Zayn’s eyes brighten considerably at this, his lips curling with amusement and Louis is quick to stifle his ideas with a smack to the thigh.

 

“No. Don’t you dare! You can’t anyway. You know you’ll be in trouble too. Think he’ll enjoy the fact that you discussed this with me?” Louis asks, knowing full well it’s a rhetorical expression.

 

“Well we got way off topic. Back to phase three….”

 

“That’s what I thought,” Louis affirms.

 

“So, you’re going to need to not screw it up. Think you can manage that?” Zayn retorts.

 

“What? You want me to write something down before I talk to him?” Louis jokes, rolling his eyes.

 

“Couldn’t hurt.”

 

Zayn smirks.

 

“I’m not reading it off a fucking piece of paper! How hard can it be after all? Harry, I want to be with you. Dump Ben. He looks like someone shoved a nasty apple core up his snooty-“

 

“No way,” Zayn interrupts.

 

“Okay,” Louis sighs in defeat, “he looks like someone told him that-“

 

“Louis!”

 

“Okay, okay. Harry, Ben’s no good for you. He’s much too old. Why not try out a newer model?”

 

“Keep going like this and you’re not only going to fail at convincing him, but he’s also going to laugh right in your face,” Zayn says wisely, “stop mucking around. You need to practice.”

 

“Fineeee,” Louis groans before taking a deep breath.

 

“Harry, I’m so sorry for what I put you through. I know I led you on, only to reject you one too many times. But here’s the thing…I wasn’t really leading you on. I mean, I didn’t know it at the time, but I do feel that way about you. I really do. So um, will you dump the weirdly overdressed barman and make a go of things with me instead?” Louis finishes, feeling quietly accomplished.

 

Yet Zayn’s still giving him a look of frustration. Sheesh, what more does he want?

 

“First, no insulting Ben,” Zayn warns him.

 

“Not even his-“ 

 

“Not even his nose.”

 

“So you agree that it’s too big for his face?”

 

Zayn sighs, clearly annoyed.

 

“I’m sorry. What was number two?” Louis asks, tilting his head with a mischievous smile.

 

“Well you said…’I do feel that way about you’. What exactly is ‘that way’?”

 

Louis does a double take.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Zayn’s eyes are dead serious and probing as he answers.

 

“Well are you in love him or not?”

 

Louis’ mouth parts in his surprise as he fidgets with the edge of the coverlet. Is he in love? Is this what love feels like? Has he fallen for Harry? Yes. He’s sure of that. He’s never wanted anyone like this… but love, he’s not sure. After all, he’s still not entirely sure if he was ever in love with Zach after all this time. After what he told Harry, he realised that he doesn’t want to think of it like that. He doesn’t like the thought that someone he loved betrayed him.

 

So does he even know what love is or what it feels like? Does he know Harry well enough to feel something like that? Sure he knows little things…like the way Harry dances when he’s not reigning himself in (arms overhead, legs skidding out in two different directions), and the way his laughter bursts from within when he’s trying to hold back (a weird hacking cough mixed with the yelp of someone who’s just been snuck up on), and just recently, the song he’d sing if he ever tried out for X factor (isn’t she lovely-Stevie Wonder.) But does he know Harry, the way someone who loves him should?

 

“I don’t know,” he says forlornly.

 

“Bullshit,” Zayn swears, startling Louis out of his thoughts, “you always know.”

 

“Maybe you and Liam knew,” Louis sulks, “because you two had like this instant connection. Was like I wasn’t even there when you two first caught onto each other.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Zayn’s nodding excitedly now and Louis’ confusion is making him testy.

 

“Exactly what?” He grumbles.

 

“You and Harry. Ever noticed how people tend to disappear around the two of you?” Zayn prompts.

 

Louis thinks over the past few months, of all the times when the other boys had happened to slink off in different directions upon the two of them getting a bit handsy.

 

“Oh.”

 

“See what I mean? You two have your own little world too.”

 

“Maybe…but that doesn’t automatically mean we’re in love,” Louis says contemplatively.

 

“If you say so. I’ve gotta go. Got a boyfriend back home who needs persuading,” Zayn says suddenly, jumping to his feet.

 

Louis just snuggles further into his bed.

 

“Gross.”

 

Zayn just leans down with a grin and smacks a kiss to Louis’ cheek.

 

“Thanks for your help Lou. Remember, phase one commences ASAP.”

 

“Yes mother,” Louis intones.

 

“Hey! If anything, Liam’s your mother. He’s the one who’s always picking up your dirty socks every time we come over,” Zayn protests.

 

Louis just shakes his head fondly.

 

“Zayn, get out of here will you?”

 

“Right. Boyfriend in trouble. Bradford bad boy to the rescue,” Zayn says with a wink as he disappears out the doorway.

 

Louis smiles into his pillow. Stupid Zayn and his superhero fantasies. Stupid Zayn and his questions about love. Louis is perfectly content being muddled, thank you very much. He’s not looking to clear it all up yet. However he can’t help thinking as he drifts off, drowsiness suddenly overtaking, that stupid Zayn might have a point. He either loves Harry….or he doesn’t.

 

…….

 

Louis: **_What you up to today sunshine? Little birdy mentioned there was no school on._**

 

Harry: _Maybe a spot of gardening, why?_

Louis is disgruntled to note the lack of customary kisses at the end of his reply. Harry probably just forgot. It means nothing.

 

Louis: **_I wasn’t aware I was speaking with a fifty year old woman. How’s menopause treating you?_**

****

Harry: _Ha ha. Now what did you want?_

Still no kisses. Hmm. If Louis has any say in it, that will be rectified by the end of today.

 

Louis: **_Just some of your oh so precious time Harold. Was wondering if you’d accompany me to Donny?_**

****

Louis waits with bated breath for the response, biting his nails nervously as he stares determinedly at the screen. It takes ten minutes or so, much longer than the other replies and Louis starts at the vibration of his phone when it finally goes off.

 

Harry: _Why me? Is Zayn busy?_

Louis sighs. This is going to be harder than he thought.

 

Louis: **_Forgive me. I was under the impression we were quite close, as in…as close as, if not closer than Zayn and I. However if you would like to decline, I’m sure Zayn would be more than delighted to see my mother again._**

****

Reverse psychology, please work, Louis prays.

 

Harry: _I didn’t say I wouldn’t come…_

Louis smiles dopily down at his screen. He can smell the easy victory.

 

Louis: **_In that case, I’ll pick you up in half an hour. Don’t look too adorable, my mum might want to keep you._**

****

Harry’s response is simple and less playful but he doesn’t decline and that’s all Louis needs right now; an opportunity.

 

Harry: _See you soon_

…..

 

The problem is….Louis doesn’t even have to lay on the charm. He doesn’t even have to pretend that Harry’s the greatest thing since sliced bread…it’s just true. Harry’s dressed in a dark knee length coat, skin tight blue jeans and a black fedora. On anyone else, the outfit would look far too over the top and the fedora, completely ridiculous and out of place but on Harry…it looks…okay he can admit it, it looks fucking beautiful. Just like Harry and his watery green eyes that shimmer slightly with what might be nervousness as he opens the door, finding Louis standing there in his black jeans and a long sleeved, blue collared shirt.

 

He does tend to try a little harder for his mother. Mostly because when he rocks up in a loose singlet and no socks, she berates him for ten minutes until he actually has to beg to see his siblings. However, today he knows he’s earned more than his mother’s approval as the nervous twitch in Harry’s smile lifts into something more genuine and his eyes begin to glow.

 

“See something you like?” Louis teases.

 

He can’t help it. He might be head over heels for Harry Styles, but that doesn’t mean he needs to stop being the master of all things sass, sarcasm and subtle teasing. Harry doesn’t blush this time though, not like he used to. He just avoids Louis’ eyes as he gets in the car, giving the red bonnet a tender rub as he passes, earning a strange look from Louis.

 

“I dunno. Do you?” Harry says finally, his eyes still glowing.

 

Now this is what Louis finds so very attractive about Harry’s sudden change in attitude. His confidence. That isn’t to say he had no guts before, but there’s a wicked gleam in Harry’s eyes that suddenly makes him feel like he doesn’t know what he’s in for. Like despite the fact that Louis’ driving the car, Harry just might be the one controlling the route they’re taking. It’s dizzying and terrifying but Louis kind of likes it. He likes that for once someone isn’t just going to accept that he holds all the power. Louis supposes Harry must get that from his mother.

 

“Indeed,” Louis lets the twinkle form in his eye as he looks Harry over, before switching on the ignition and pulling onto the road, “and I must say, I did warn you _not_ to look so adorable. A fedora Harold, really? Are you trying to steal my inheritance?”

 

“Suppose I am,” Harry humors him, ignoring the compliment, “what are you going to do about it?”

 

“Crash this car obviously, killing you instantly” Louis says without hesitation, fiddling with the radio until he finds a good station.

 

“You’d miss me too much if I were dead,” Harry argues.

 

Louis lets the comment dangle for a moment before snatching it up in his grasp, determined to make use of its potential.

 

“You’re right,” Louis says sincerely, turning his head a fraction so Harry can note the startling clarity in his eyes.

 

Harry looks rather unnerved and when Louis glances back, he’s pointedly ignoring Louis’ comment, fiddling with the volume control on the radio to turn it up. So…he’s going to have to work a lot harder. If he can’t even get Harry to acknowledge his sincerity, how the hell is he supposed to prove it to him?

 

The song playing is sweet disposition by the temper trap, and as Louis studies Harry out the corner of his eye, he finds the boy humming quietly under his breath.

 

“You can sing properly,” Louis encourages, smiling kindly.

 

“Oh, um,” Harry looks a little embarrassed as the humming abruptly cuts off, “no, I’m good.”

 

“Okay,” Louis agrees, not wanting to force the issue, “you like this song then?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry laughs now and Louis shoots him a curious glance, “the lyrics were supposed to be my first tattoo.”

 

“What do you mean, they were supposed to be?”

 

Louis tries to arch his eyebrow the way Zayn does but he can just feel that it’s not working out for him.

 

“Well, turns out I had the lyrics wrong. Just as the guy was about to start, Niall jumps up waving his phone in his hand, screaming like we’re in a medical drama and someone’s about to cut off my leg. He’s shouting, “Harry no! I just looked it up. Just to check. You got the lyrics wrong!””

 

Louis looks over at Harry with confusion in his eyes.

 

“So why didn’t you just get the correct lyrics?”

 

“Well,” Harry says dramatically and Louis grins in response, “dark child said it was a bad omen.”

 

Louis tries to control his expression but it’s difficult.

 

“Harry, who the fuck is dark child?” He asks because it’s the best he can do.

 

Harry doesn’t seem to mind, just twists the gaudy, silver ring on his finger and smiles seemingly to himself.

 

“The tattoo artist.”

 

“Let me get this straight,” Louis says grimly as he turns onto a new street, “you decided not to get the tattoo you planned on getting because someone named ‘dark child’ told you it was a bad omen!?”

 

Harry doesn’t speak for a second, but when Louis glances at him again he’s nodding.

 

“Precisely,” he finally adds.

 

“Harry that’s bullshit. Let me ask you something. How much were the swallows compared to your other one?”

 

“Well the lyrics were a simple job. The swallows take a bit longer so I mean, the swallows were a bit pricier,” Harry admits, blissfully unaware.

 

“And pray tell, Harry Edward Styles, who picked out the swallows after the whole ‘bad omen’ incident?” Louis says with a grim smile.

 

“Why are you using my middle name, Louis William Tomlinson? Dark child suggested it and I agreed,” Harry says cautiously, waiting for the rebuff he knows is coming but doesn’t quite understand.

 

“I’m using your full name Harry Edward Styles because seeing as your mother is not present, I feel it’s my duty to properly scold you for your own stupidity. Listen up, if a dodgy character with a name like ‘dark child,’ tries to tell you that something is a ‘bad omen,’ and then suggests something that will mean a little more cash in his pocket, you might want to question his motives. Oh and bad omens in general, I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous!”

 

Harry looks properly abashed when Louis looks at him. He’s tugged his fedora down over his eyes, but Louis can see the faint hint of pink on his cheeks. Harry’s a clueless, innocent schoolboy when it comes to the real world, and Louis should find it frustrating. He should feel inclined to shake some sense into him. Instead, he’d kind of like to tug the poor boy into his arms and whisper silly endearments to him, let him know that some lessons get learned the hard way.

 

“Hey,” Louis says brightly as the silence continues, “don’t sulk.”

 

It was clearly the wrong thing to say as Harry glares at him now, angry lines sticking out of his forehead as he does so.

 

“I wasn’t sulking. I just feel like an idiot, okay?” Harry snaps.

 

Louis feels contrite. He wants Harry to go back to blushing and being bashful so he can have another attempt at saying the right thing.

 

“Harry-“

 

“How about we not talk, yeah? Think I’d rather just listen,” Harry suggests balefully, nodding his head toward the radio.

 

Louis’ eyes drift back to the road purposefully as they prickle a little. Harry’s rejecting him. That’s okay. He’s perfectly fine. It’s his own fault anyway. He supposes he’ll have to tell Zayn that phase one was a complete failure. He hasn’t even gotten to the part where he shows Harry his vulnerable, trusting side and he’s already ruined it.

 

The silence persists throughout the drive, and even as they walk up to the front door the air is thick with tension. Louis rings the bell and waits anxiously for a barrage of little feet and small arms thrown around his waist.

 

“Louis!”

 

His mum’s exuberance is one of the things he has in common with her, that and their soft dark hair. Hers is flowing long and straight over her shoulders and she’s got pajama bottoms on with little ducks on them and a soft pink jumper. Most kids would be embarrassed. Not Louis. She’s beautiful, even like this and the sight of her alone warms his heart. There’s nothing he misses more about Donny than his mum.

 

“Mum!” He cries in the exact same tone.

 

They embrace for a long moment and he feels her lips press against his hair as she sighs contentedly. The separation is hard on them both. When they finally pull away and Louis turns back to Harry, expecting a sullen look, he’s surprised to find a warmth in his gaze that wasn’t there before. It’s like Harry’s eyes are suddenly seeing something sequestered away from the rest of the world and Louis fights his usual urge to turn away, to hide, remembering that this is what he’s here for.

 

“Ah mum. This is Harry,” Louis says, gesturing to Harry and sounding only slightly off balance.

 

“Harry,” Jay greets him and the sound is soft and a bit too familiar, “my son has only recently given me the lowdown about you…but I hear only good things.”

 

She beckons them both inside with a huge smile, wandering down the hallway before them and Harry takes the opportunity to pull Louis back against him, his eyes reflecting the sunlight filtering in through the window beside the front door.

 

“The lowdown?” He says with a hint of smile, “what exactly does that mean? What did you say?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, my little sullen teenager,” Louis says cheekily, pinching Harry’s hip.

 

It’s a beat later that Louis regrets his use of ‘my,’ less than thrilled that he’s just spoken as if he has some kind of ownership over the boy. Harry’s smile however is dazzling as he reaches around and grips Louis’ ass.

 

“Yes I would. Care to tell me?”

 

His eyes are unfairly alluring and Louis’ thrilled by the touch but hey, Harry has a boyfriend, and as much as he wants to memorise the shape of Harry’s lips beneath his own, it can’t happen like this. He’s almost certain Harry is flirting with him, surely he doesn’t touch everybody else like this. He surprises himself and possibly Harry though by doing the smart thing, more commonly known as the right thing.

 

“Not right now,” Louis chirps, a promise in his eyes as he dances out of reach and away from Harry’s wandering hands.

 

Harry looks a little sullen again, but Louis just inserts his smaller hand into Harry’s big one. He tries to dampen his ridiculously goofy smile when Harry squeezes his fingers and allows himself to be dragged down the hallway into the kitchen.

 

“So mum, where is the brood?” Louis asks immediately, trying not to chuckle at the gleam in Jay’s eyes as her eyes fly down to their conjoined hands.

 

He had briefed her on the plan beforehand of course, all three phases of it. She was happy to participate.

 

“About that…” She responds, looking nervous.

 

Rightfully so as Louis eyes go stormy and he whips his head around looking for a flash of blonde hair, a small body hurtling toward him or any sign of his siblings.

 

“Where are they?” He says, sounding petulant.

 

“Well, Dan wanted to take Lottie to see some show in London, and I tried to tell them you were coming but he actually bought tickets for the lot of them some time ago. Never mind me. Apparently it’s ‘not my taste,’” Jay complains, using air quotes.

 

“Even my new favourite pair of twins?” Louis cries out, feeling heart broken.

 

He had been looking forward to seeing his whole family and seeing Harry interact with them. Never mind the bloody irony that he traveled from London to Donny to see his family and they decided it was a good time to do the reverse.

 

“Louis,” Jay says with that familiar brusque tone he’s come to know so well, “you shouldn’t play favourites. And no. Of course not. They’re asleep upstairs.”

 

She motions to the white baby monitor resting on the bench lying next to steaming bowls of pasta.

 

“Thank god,” Louis sighs, relieved.

 

“Don’t worry Harry. You can meet the rest of the brood next time,” Jay assures Harry and Louis clamps a hand over his eyes and groans loudly in protest.

 

“Next time?”

 

Harry sounds kind of…hopeful and as much as Louis likes the sound of that, he’s still considering locking his mother in the linen closet for the remainder of the day.

 

“Of course love. Have to come back again soon. Boobear, hun, would you stop that? No need to be embarrassed,” Jay says affectionately.

 

Louis removes his hand from his face to give her an ‘I can’t believe you just said that’ look. She glances between Louis and Harry now and her eyes widen as she clearly realises her mistake but it’s too late. Harry pulls on his hand until Louis’ forced to meet his eyes and Harry bursts into laughter as soon as he does.

 

“Boobear? Oh my god, Louis. That’s adorable,” he squeaks between loud, uncontrolled laughs.

 

Louis shoots his mother a pleading look only to find her chuckling too.

 

“I hate you both,” Louis says despondently but Harry’s not having it.

 

He wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and squeezes, nuzzling his head against Louis’ hair.

 

“Naww boobear, don’t be sad,” he teases, “I really do think it’s cute.”

 

Louis sighs as he pulls away from Harry and leans down to inspect the pasta.

 

“This for us?” he questions.

 

“Yep. Perfectly timed….no thanks to you. You were supposed to text when you were close,” Jay says, shaking her head at him.

 

He just shrugs, unaffected. Harry on the other hand grins at Jay.

 

“He’s not a very reliable son, is he?”

 

Harry’s eyes are glinting with amusement as he glances Louis’ way and Louis narrows his eyes.

 

“Nope, looking for a replacement actually. Care to apply? Just a formality really. Think you’ve got the position already. Love the fedora,” Jay pretends to whisper, tugging on the offensive hat.

 

Harry laughs delightedly and then takes the thing off, putting it on the counter. Louis throws his hands up in a dramatic gesture.

 

“I knew this would happen,” he complains, sniffing, “you’ve never loved me.”

 

Jay opens her mouth to retort but Harry shoots her a look that Louis doesn’t quite catch, however he assumes it’s something akin to “I’ve got this.”

 

“What are you talking about Lou? I’ve always loved you.”

 

Harry’s smile is teasing, the words light and airy as they slip off his tongue, but Louis’ insides wriggle and he feels his breath stutter slightly as Harry notes his hesitation to reply. Thankfully, his mother is not completely useless.

 

“Are you boys going to eat lunch or what?”

 

That’s when a loud sucking noise erupts from the baby monitor and Louis’ heart beats a little faster as he remembers his siblings.

 

“Lunch or babies?” Louis asks himself, “It’s such a tough decision.”

 

Harry chuckles at this and when Louis looks up, it’s like a chain of dopey smiles. Jay is smiling at Harry smiling at Louis and Louis is answering them both with the same fondness, the same lo-well…love for his mum and…ah, something for Harry.

 

“Your lunch will go cold if you go near them. I know you. You’ll be up there for hours. Besides, they’re just sleeping. Might as well eat first,” Jay suggests, cocking her head.

 

“I like watching them sleep,” he pouts, turning to Harry now, “Doris does this adorable thing where she pushes her head against Ernest and then he pushes back.”

 

Louis’ pretty sure Harry’s face mirrors his; the picture of adoration and it’s comforting to know that Harry doesn’t have some weird aversion to babies.

 

“Please fill your tummies first,” Jay pleads.

 

“Of course Jay,” Harry comforts her, patting her upper arm.

 

Harry doesn’t hesitate to use her first name, nor to show physical affection even though they’ve scarcely known each other a few minutes. His mother just looks up at Harry all starry eyed, and Louis is half embarrassed and half endeared by the exchange of looks between them.

 

Once the two boys finish eating, Louis drags Harry up the stairs and into the baby’s room motioning for him to be quiet. Harry just rolls his eyes, moving his head a little, causing a curl to fall across the middle of his face.

 

Without hesitation, Louis plants one hand on Harry’s hip for balance and pushes up on his toes, slowly pushing it back into place, his eyes on Harry’s the whole time. Harry’s look of annoyance flits away at Louis’ touch as he plants his own hand on Louis’ hip to help steady him…or something like that.

 

When Louis lands back on his feet, Harry quickly turns away and crosses the room to the cradle. Louis watches in awe as Harry leans down and very gently cradles Ernest in his arms, staring down at the little boy with the surest look of love he’s ever seen on any eighteen year old boy’s face. Harry looks positively infatuated and when Louis crosses the room, drawn to them both without any thought involved, he looks up and they share a soft, intimate look. It shivers up Louis’ body and rests somewhere in his chest, and in this moment, he’s sure. He’s sure he can convince Harry.

 

“My mum would kill you,” Louis whispers, “you’re not supposed to pick them up while they’re sleeping.”

 

Harry looks offended as he reluctantly looks back up at Louis.

 

“I’ve never woken a sleeping baby. Not once,” He breathes even more quietly than Louis.

 

Louis cocks his head to one side.

 

“How many sleeping babies have you held though?”

 

“Used to babysit for my mum’s friend Lou all the time,” Harry says, not bothering to look up anymore.

 

His finger is stroking Ernest’s little cheek and Louis’ not sure who to look at, the beautiful baby or the beautiful boy. He chooses the beautiful boy…just this once.

 

“Course you did,” he says fondly.

 

“What’s that mean?”

 

Harry sounds confused, bewildered even.

 

“Just…you’re that boy. You’re that boy you bring home to meet your mother,” Louis says, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

Harry’s eyebrows draw together and then he gently places Ernest back before lifting Doris, again with gentle hands and careful fingers.

 

“Is that was this is?” He says suddenly.

 

“Does that bother you?” Louis knows his voice is frail and uneven but he’s itching for this little truth.

 

“I don’t understand you,” Harry says, apparently unaware that he’s uttered the exact same sentiment before.

 

This time, Louis doesn’t joke.

 

“Maybe not completely but you do. Better than most I think,” Louis utters softly, leaning down to lightly kiss the fine hairs on Doris’ head, praying she won’t start screaming.

 

Thankfully she doesn’t, and when Louis pulls back Harry’s eyes are all soft and leaden again, glimpsing that rare, malleable part of Louis that belongs only to his family.

 

“I’m glad.”

 

Harry’s voice sounds slightly throaty and Louis enjoys the sound.

 

“You know,” Harry whispers, a deep, dimpled smile gracing his face, “she has your nose.”

 

Louis’ mouth parts in surprise as he bends over his younger sister, trying to get a look. Frankly, he doesn’t see the resemblance but it’s enough that Harry does.

 

“Just as well,” Louis sighs, “I might never get to pass on my genes given my lifestyle.”

 

“You mean because you don’t want to settle down?” Harry asks, rocking Doris slightly as she sighs a little in her sleep.

 

“No,” Louis shoots Harry a confused glance, “where did you get that idea?”

 

“You. You don’t do boyfriends or dating or anything…” Harry trails off.

 

“Anything?”

 

“Anything that requires you to give a shit,” he says. The sentence is harsh in the quiet room, despite the low volume at which it is spoken.

 

“Well,” Louis pauses, steadying himself, “I never said I didn’t plan on having a family. Besides….” He waits until Harry looks up, “things change.”

 

“You want kids? Even as young as you are?” Harry doesn’t sound convinced.

 

“Of course. Don’t you?”

 

Harry nods eagerly but he’s glancing at Louis like he’s just discovered something alien.

 

“I meant…before…I meant, being gay. Two boys can’t exactly…you know,” Louis says, staring down at the carpet as a sudden sadness overwhelms him at the thought.

 

Louis hears the sounds of Harry placing Doris back down followed by the soft brush of his feet on the carpet. Suddenly his hand is wrapped around Louis’ elbow, and Louis looks back up. Harry looks sad too, his green eyes tight with compressed tension. Louis kind of wants to draw them in Zayn’s big sketchbook. They’re just captivating, even like this. Even when they seem to be saying too many things at once.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says gently, “I didn’t mean to assume that you don’t want…those things. I just didn’t know. But you know, you could always use a surrogate. It wouldn’t be yours and your…partner’s,” Harry stumbles over the word a little, “but it would have a part of you and you could have another surrogate child with their DNA.”

 

Louis likes the idea, never having really given it too much thought despite knowing he wanted a baby at some point. Yet this idea, the idea of being able to create a family that’s really his is so very alluring.

 

“I dunno though,” he says, feeling cheered enough to joke, “should I really bring someone into the world with my genes?”

 

Harry’s smile is brilliant.

 

“You’re right,” he says, his hand sliding down to grip Louis’ wrist, “if that baby’s as delicate as you, it won’t last very long.”

 

The cheek, the very cheek. Louis still wants to kiss him. So he turns and struts out of the room towards his own, not checking to see whether Harry’s followed him. However as soon as he leaves the babies’ room Harry returns to being unapologetically indelicate, his heavy footsteps sounding on the carpet behind Louis as he pushes his door open praying that his mum thought to clean a few things up for him. Thankfully, luck is on his side.

 

Harry’s eyes are wide with curiosity as he takes everything in, plonking himself down on the end of the small single bed. Louis crawls up to the head of the bed and then pulls his knees up against his chest as he waits for the verdict.

 

His childhood room is nothing to brag about. It’s small, very cluttered and covered with way too many photos of his awful childhood haircut. Thankfully the most embarrassing of those are tucked away in his wardrobe. There’s a wooden bookshelf with surprisingly few books, a large red crate bursting with old CD’s that Harry eyes carefully, and a small collection of notebooks under his bed that thankfully Harry can’t see from his vantage point. There’s a few random items scattered over his small, shoddy dressing table, a forgotten silver watch and an assortment of old, chunky and broken phones.

 

“I like it,” Harry finally says, smiling at him openly, “it’s so…unorganized.  I mean, obviously your mum cleaned it before we got here,” Louis chuckles, unapologetic, “but the photos are all slanted at weird angles and then there’s these broken phones, lying here, all jumbled. It’s like you wanted everything to be out of order.”

 

Louis is just a touch surprised that Harry picked up on that.

 

“I did,” Louis says, just a little shame faced, “I went through a major phase of thinking disorder was cool.”

 

“Was this a passing phase or is that your eternal philosophy?” Harry says with a lopsided grin.

 

“I don’t know where you got this new attitude of yours but it’s proving troublesome,” Louis warns him though he’s smiling indulgently.

 

Harry smiles down at the coverlet before looking around once more, settling his gaze on the bedside table.

 

“The watch,” he says, nodding at it, “that from someone special?”

 

Louis bites his lip, considering.

 

“Zach,” he says it on an exhale, his expression pained.

 

Harry crawls up the bed until he’s perched in front of Louis. His eyes are deep and dark like the center of a tropical forest and Louis’ breathing stops. His heart palpitates in his chest as Harry inches forward slowly, but just as Louis’ eyelashes begin to flutter Harry reaches past him and grabs the stupid watch. Louis hates that fucking watch, for more than one reason now.

 

“I’m going to tell you something my favourite teacher once told me,” Harry says quietly, rubbing a thumb over the cold metal.

 

Louis nods, slightly hypnotized both by Harry’s closeness and his smell. Why does he always smell so good?  Harry doesn’t look up as he speaks, just lets the words drift out into the air as if he expects Louis to catch them, and catch them he does.

 

“One time, when I was young, I was climbing on the playground and I fell. I cut my knee open pretty bad and I was crying and my teacher came and picked me up. We were at this fundraising event at school, I had wandered away from my family and we couldn’t find my mum and I was a mess. I was crying harder than I ever had before in my young life. At that stage, it was the most traumatic thing I’d ever been through,” Harry pauses, a faint smile touching his lips now.

 

“Mum still warns me not to wander off when we go shopping. Anyway, it all worked out okay.  We found her eventually and I got extra ice cream and a big, fat Band-Aid…but I had a scar. More than physically. I didn’t want to go back on the playground. I was so afraid to face what happened that-“

 

“Harry,” Louis protests, “I’m not afraid to confront it. I already have.”

 

“You’re right Lou,” Harry murmurs. “You’re not afraid. You’re just sad. You’re just very sad that he hurt you. Your eyes turn down here.” He reaches up with his thumb, rubbing a soft circle around the corner of Louis’ eye before it drifts down to his mouth, dragging his bottom lip down slightly, “and this lip juts out defensively.”

 

Louis’ aware that he’s breathing noisily, raggedly even but he can’t seem to stop. How can Harry awaken such things in him, in his soul and his body all in one? He’s completely ethereal. Harry takes his hand away and Louis wants to whine with protest; wants to mewl the way Mishka does.

 

“You keep thinking of it like it has some bearing on what happens now. Like his betrayal is still yours to own. This,” Harry picks up the abandoned watch, “is a reminder that you can’t be safe with people.”

 

Louis feels unsteady as he struggles to accept the truth Harry proffers. Harry takes the offensive item in one hand and Louis wrist in the other. With soft, soft eyes and even softer fingers, he pulls the watch around Louis wrist, doing up the clasp as Louis focuses on just keeping his pulse steady.

 

“What did your teacher say Harry?” Louis asks, drawing the younger boy’s eyes back to his own.

 

“She said,” Harry pauses, “she said that sometimes you fall and you lose your mum, and that bad things happen that you can’t always prevent. She asked me if I liked the playground before the fall and when I told her so, she asked; why let one fall ruin something I loved?” Harry wets his lips, his eyes staring deep into Louis’, “what I think she meant, was why let fear taint the few beautiful things in this world that have the potential to make you happy? Why be sad, or afraid, or haunted by a ghost, a memory, a playground…or a boy who didn’t care about you, who didn’t deserve you…when you’ve got a million opportunities to make up for it?”

 

Louis is staring at Harry, transfixed, he knows it’s not the specific words, nor is it a lesson he hasn’t heard in passing, yet he’s just now realizing how vital it is. Hell, maybe it’s just Harry. Maybe it’s just that when Harry begs him to listen, he really wants to. Harry lifts his hands and grips Louis’ face in his palms. it’s unsettling feeling like a lost little lamb and letting someone see him like that…but it’s Harry. It’s Harry and maybe it doesn’t make sense, but Louis wouldn’t want anybody else to open him up like this.

 

“I spent years playing on that playground, and yeah I fell a few times, but it never compared with the rest of it. It never measured up to the joy I got from it. Never,” Harry whispers. “And what he did will never compare with the rest of your life Louis, so don’t let it come between you and your happiness.”

 

“Harry,” Louis’ voice is choked and broken.

 

He just wants to haul Harry into the deepest kiss of his lifetime but he can’t. Harry’s hands fall and he looks so bloody concerned when he regards Louis.   

 

“Louis? I didn’t mean to upset you…”

 

Harry sounds pained.

 

“No,” Louis says with a scratchy voice, “you just…I’m sorry I let you down Harry.”

 

Harry, bless him, looks so damn confused but so determined to understand.

 

“What do you mean Louis? You never let me down.”

 

Louis feels like absolute cat piss inside but he plasters on a smile. He can’t say the words beating against the inside of his chest in this moment, not when Harry’s so far from being his. Not here, not now.

 

“Nothing. Don’t worry. I just…I didn’t mean to be sad,” he lies, shrugging a little.

 

Harry’s smile is back now, poised just on the edge of his mouth as if it might just fall off. Louis’ determined to see that it doesn’t.

 

“Are you apologising for being sad?” He enquires with a twitching mouth, “Because that’s ridiculous.”

 

“You know what’s ridiculous, that bloody fedora,” Louis retorts.

 

They’re both grinning at each other now.

 

“C’mon Lou,” Harry says, tilting his head, curls falling sideways as he pouts just enough for it be completely endearing, “I know you love my fedora. You think I’m gorgeous.”

 

Louis almost scoffs. Of course he thinks that. Everybody does. Everybody should.

 

“Okay sunshine, enough with the puppy dog look. You look silly,” he says, fond exasperation colouring his tone.

 

Harry just smiles brightly at him, like he knows exactly how lacking in frustration Louis really is.

 

……

 

After hours of arguing over every CD in Louis’ collection, they’re interrupted by a timer on Harry’s phone.

 

“Oh,” Harry says with surprise, “we have to get going. If we want to get back before it gets dark.”

 

“Why don’t we stay?” Louis says, hoping his smile doesn’t scream “pre-meditated plan.”

 

Harry visibly reacts to this, scratching awkwardly at his neck and flushing pink. Seventeen year old Harry is making a comeback, it seems.

 

“I dunno. I have school tomorrow. We’d have to leave so early…and wouldn’t your mum mind? And I don’t have any clothes. I mean…I don’t know,” he stumbles over his words a little.

 

If Harry were his, Louis would press a kiss to the spot where his Adam’s apple jumps nervously in his throat.

 

“I’m fine driving you home at the crack of dawn,” Louis smiles, all squinty eyed. Harry really is the only exception to every one of his rules. “Mum will be delighted, and as for clothes anything you need, you can borrow from me. I mean…can’t promise anything will fit right but you never know.”

 

Harry’s chewing on his lip now, his eyes thoughtful and Louis can’t bear to wait.

 

“Pleeeeease Harold,” he whines, trying out his own puppy dog look.

 

Harry looks a bit startled by the sudden show of neediness and Louis just hopes it’s a positive thing, a step in his direction and away from Ben.

 

“Why do you want me to stay so much? Surely there’s something waiting for you at home?” Harry asks with a pointed look.

 

“Like an empty flat?” Louis replies, giving his own pointed look.

 

“What about…I mean…don’t you want to-“

 

“Fuck some random guy into the early hours of the morning?” Harry flinches, “Not really.”

 

Now Harry looks like somebody knocked him a bit too hard in the head and Louis knows its progress. He doesn’t look like he’s ready to do a running jump into Louis’ arms, but if Louis can just show Harry that he’s not a regular lothario anymore, then maybe they can get their act together.

 

“Well….I should at least text Ben. Just to let him know where I am,” Harry says quickly.

 

Louis’ smugness evaporates quickly at the mention of his rival, reminding him it’s not a one horse race. Thankfully the other horse is stuck back in London, but apparently that doesn’t stop him from coming between them. Yet Louis has to play nice. For now.

 

“That’s fine,” he says, smiling too widely.

 

Harry gazes at him for a moment, searching, his eyes so intense that Louis almost has to pull his own away, but then Harry’s eyes finally slide down and he pulls out his phone, his fingers flying swiftly over the keys as he texts Ben, his mum and at least one other person that Louis doesn’t get to see the name of.

 

“Well,” Louis announces, clapping his hands against his thighs, “I’ll just set up some stuff in the guest room.”

 

That’s when Jay pops her head around the door with an apologetic smile.

 

“Couldn’t help but eavesdrop. Sorry boys but um…the guest room is currently housing some stuff from the flooded garage. You’ll just have to sleep in here together,” She says, smiling brilliantly at Louis before disappearing once more.

 

Bloody mad woman she is Louis thinks, going off script like that. She probably thinks she’s done him a favour and that he was simply too scared to ask Harry to sleep in the bed. It’s not that at all. It’s the fact that Louis’ not sure he can control himself with a sleep ruffled, pliant Harry beside him…and control himself he must, at least until he manages to get rid of Ben.

 

“Sorry,” Louis says quietly.

 

Harry sounds kind of gruff and overly casual when he responds.

 

“It’s fine. No big deal. I mean, I know you didn’t want to sleep with me that first night…” He trails off and Louis feels like an absolute shit.

 

“Oh no Harry, I’m not…it doesn’t bother me. I just thought you might feel…I didn’t want you to um…I’m sorry, I’m making a right mess of things. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”

 

He gets there in the end. Just. Harry chuckles and nudges his foot with his own. They both sit cross legged beside each other on the floor, the CD crate next to them, and as Louis nudges him back he feels like this is the lowest form of flirtation. However he’ll take whatever he can get.

 

“I’m fine with it Lou.”

 

…..

 

Hours later, as Louis restlessly turns from side to side, his t-shirt scratching him uncomfortably, his pants bunching up, he certainly doesn’t feel fine with it. Harry’s breathing softly beside him with these quiet little snores that don’t even bother him. Nope, they’re just plain endearing and Louis’ own mushy brain saddens him just slightly.

 

Yet that’s not even the real problem. The problem is the way Harry casually stripped down to his undies, jumping into the bed and being careful not to touch Louis, which somehow just made it worse. Every now and then when Louis shuffles to get comfortable and Harry stretches a little, their bodies brush against each other, Louis’ hand lightly brushing over Harry’s tight abdominals or across his thigh. Its effect on him is startling.

 

He’s never been this turned on by a simple touch before but with Harry everything is different. Harry’s muscles are obscene for someone so young. Every time Louis’ skin touches Harry’s, all he can think of is his urge to map out all the tendons and tight lines in Harry’s body with his tongue. He’s only getting more uncomfortable by the minute so he finally raises himself off the bed with a sigh, pulling both the shirt and pants from his body.

 

 

He groans with relief as the cool air hits his hot itchy body, taking a moment to stretch slightly, arching up on his tip toes with closed eyes, and then touching back down with a pleased sigh. However this quickly transitions into a surprised squeak when he looks back at the bed and finds two, luminous green eyes staring at him in the dark, the only light being emitted from the alarm clock on Louis’ bedside table.

 

Harry doesn’t say a word to comfort him. He just lets his gaze drag across Louis face and then down his body so slowly that Louis starts to feel all hot and bothered all over again. When his eyes finally meet Louis’ again, he’s biting his lip and Louis’ contemplating whether Harry would be all that bothered if he bit it for him.

 

“You’re so fit,” Harry finally says in a hushed whisper.

 

A pleasant flush creeps up Louis’ skin.

 

“Thank you,” he says awkwardly, shuffling from foot to foot.

 

Harry holds the duvet up and then beckons to him with a finger.

 

“C’mon then. You’ll freeze out there…in just those,” he says, letting his gaze linger on Louis’ briefs once more.

 

Louis’ pretty sure he could get off on that stare alone. However he quickly ensconces himself in the bed, trying to get warm. The heat has suddenly drained from his body and he shivers violently.

 

“Don’t say anything, okay?” Harry says into the silence.

 

Louis’ confusion wrinkles his forehead but he remains silent, staring up at the ceiling. Harry’s arm slides under his back and lifts him slightly, turning his whole body onto his side with little effort. He’s now facing the wall, Harry’s chest pressed tightly against his back. Are they spooning? They’re spooning. They’re feet are tangled together and oh wow, Louis thinks, they’re semi-naked spooning. Yet there’s one problem he must rectify.

 

Louis reaches awkwardly behind him grabbing Harry’s arm and bringing it around his chest, clutching Harry’s hand in his own.

 

 “Louis…” Harry protests but Louis just wants this night, this one night with Harry.

 

If this is the only time he ever gets to be this close to Harry, he wants to make the most of it. Not even Harry himself can persuade him otherwise.

 

“You said, don’t say anything. So you too. Don’t say anything.”

 

Harry sighs but his fingers clench around Louis’. He’s too happy like this to care that Harry’s clearly not all that convinced. That’s a problem for another day…tomorrow or the day after that. Phase one complete he thinks absently, warmth beginning to permeate his body, eyes slipping closed, and a heartbeat that is not his own thrumming throughout his entire body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to say...  
> First, outside of the world of fanfiction, I have nothing against Ben Winston....or his nose ;)  
> Second, obviously Doris and Ernest's age in relation to Louis' is inaccurate....very inaccurate...but hey, they call that creative license kids!  
> Thank you to Kymby K as always for her superb editing and for finally getting around to editing my favourite chapter so far. Makes me happy as Larry :D  
> p.s please comment to your heart's content...it makes my heart content :) xx  
> Oh and stay tuned :D


	11. Chapter 11

Louis smiles as his drop dead gorgeous, curly haired boyfriend wraps a ruby scarf around his neck, patting it down against his lovely collar bones for good measure.

 

“You look adorable in my things,” he murmurs, his eyes roving over Louis’ form.

 

Louis rubs his hand down the oversized jumper and then sniffs at it exaggeratedly.

 

“Smells like you,” he says, watching Harry’s eyes soften, “smells just like pretentious fedoras and barely buttoned shirts.”

 

Harry’s eyes narrow but he’s laughing openly as he grabs Louis by the wrist and yanks him forward, their bodies colliding awkwardly. Harry’s laughter stops however as he brings his hands up to Louis’ hair, sifting through the ends of it with his long fingers, rubbing gently against Louis’ scalp and making his back arch.

 

“If I didn’t love you…” He says, shaking his head with exasperation.

 

The tenderness in his liquid green eyes is more than enough to shake Louis’ foundations. This is his moment. He’s been avoiding the subject quite definitively, but he can’t help feeling as though its now that all the pieces are supposed to fit together, that he’s supposed to say the magical words and be done with it.

 

“Harry,” he says steadily, his heart pumping over time.

 

Harry’s eyes are on his face, gazing too intently as always and never missing a thing. Harry’s whole face perks up at the look in Louis’ eyes. He feels the weight of the moment too. Might have even stopped breathing, by the looks of things.

 

“Harry…” Louis says a second time, still trying to balance out the tidal wave of anxiety in his chest.

 

….

 

When Louis awakes, the covers beside him are just slightly peeled back as if someone had very carefully snuck out. Harry. The last dregs of a fading dream are vanquished as Louis' heart beats painfully in his chest with Harry's absence. He glances at the alarm clock to find that it has just gone ten o'clock and he's already late for uni.

 

Yet it barely disturbs him. Not when the bitter cold of the room is seeping through the thin covers to his semi naked body. And certainly not when he can still feel the traces of heat from  where Harry's body had touched his while they spooned. Why is it, that after showing Harry so much of himself, so much of what he is beneath the smoldering looks and ambiguous tattoos, Harry has disappeared on him? And for that matter he thinks absently, why the fuck didn't his alarm go off?

 

He checks his phone now, rubbing a lifeless hand through his flattened and equally lifeless hair. There's a message from Harry and his heart beats a little faster as he unlocks the damn thing, getting his code wrong twice and swearing at it, wondering why the fuck he thought a passcode was a good idea in the first place.

 

Harry: _Just took the train home. You looked so innocent and peaceful in sleep I couldn't bear to disturb you. Well, other than to pull the covers tighter around your tiny body before I left of course ;)_   

 

_Also turned your alarm off. Figured you could use a day off…well another day off. Seriously, you've got shadows under your eyes that look deeper than mine Lou. Hope everything is okay ?_

_Oh and thank you for yesterday. Kiss the twins and your mother bye for me .xx_   

 

Louis' smiles dopily down at his phone, reading and rereading the words until they sink into his bones. Harry didn't abandon him. Harry not only noticed his exhaustion, but wanted to rectify it. And though Louis strongly objects to the implication that he's petite, his cheeks lift at the thought of Harry tucking him in.

 

Louis: **_I resent your use of the words "innocent” and “tiny.”  I am neither of these things Harold._** ** _Thank you for letting me sleep but everything's fine, I promise. Still would have been happy to drive you, you daft thing._** ** _The twins just started screaming...think they miss you. Might have to come back after all ? Thank YOU for coming. Study hard babe :) x_**   

 

Louis knows Harry's in class so he forces himself out of bed and goes to make a cup of tea. However when he returns, his screen is still lit up and as he bends over the bed eagerly to reach it, nearly falling off in the process, he finds Harry's name once more. The surge of excitement and adrenaline in his chest is slightly at odds with the way his face twists with confusion as he wonders how Harry is able to reply. 

 

 Harry: _Is that an actual invitation Louis Tomlinson? Meet the family pt.2? Are you sure you want me to meet Lottie...what if she develops a crush ;) And did you just call me babe? What on earth has gotten into you lately? .xx_   

 

Oh holy shit fuck. Shit on a stick. Louis' brain might be seizing, it's like the only things left are expletives because oh yeah, he fucking called Harry babe. Sure, he called Anne babe too. He calls Liam babe sometimes just to see Zayn get ticked off....but this time he put a kiss after it. He doesn't do that. It wasn't a flippant comment like with Anne or a snide joke like with Ziam. It was a fucking honest endearment and the way he said it...oh god, as if Harry's education seriously depended on Louis' wishing him well. "Study hard babe."

 

What an idiot. He can just hear Zayn cackling, the sudden urge to face palm rising. I mean it wasn't like up until that moment Louis had been texting Harry and then some outside force had taken over. Louis just hadn't thought it through very clearly. It felt natural...like that word could somehow belong to him and Harry now. Clearly he's turning into a proper, tragic sap. What has gotten into me? Louis thinks miserably. You, Harry Styles. You've ruined me.

 

Louis: **_On second thought, maybe meeting the twins is enough. I'm not having my bloody sister ogling you from across the kitchen, thank you very much. I call everyone babe. Why are you replying anyway? Shouldn't you be listening to your teacher, you twat._**   

 

A little white lie never hurt anyone and Louis is very careful to leave out that god awful kiss this time. No blatant flirting allowed. Not yet.

 

Harry: _From babe to twat? Someone's in a mood ;) .xx_

 

Louis rolls his eyes, scoffing loudly into the silence of his room. His phone vibrates again a second later.

 

Harry: _Roll your eyes all you like grumpy bum, won't change the truth. Anyway, my teacher is notoriously soft on people using phones. Don't worry bout me...babe ;) .xx_  

 

Louis' soft laughter tinkles through the room as Harry's teasing tone chases away any lingering embarrassment.  

 

Louis: **_You're not funny Harold. You really should respect your elders and give your teacher your full attention. Might get rid of that attitude of yours that I've picked up on of late._**

****

Louis: **_Twat._**

 

He grins excitedly as he sees the little dots that signify Harry's typing. His teeth breaking his closed mouth at Harry's response.

 

Harry: _Show my elders more respect? In that case, sir, I sincerely apologise for treating you without respect .xx_

 

Louis groans a little at the use of the word sir. He's had more than a few fantasies over the years of bending a man over a school desk and dominating him completely. To be in full control of Harry...to make him shiver and pant Louis' name with want...well, the thought has Louis rearranging himself in his pants.  

 

Louis: **_The bloody cheek. I've taught you well. Too well._**

 

Harry doesn't reply and Louis tries not to let the thought sting. However he's hopeless to deny that he's a bit forlorn, especially when he catches himself singing along to a bit of Celine Dion on the drive back to London.

 

"All by myseeeeelf. Don't wanna be, all by myseeeelf. Anymoreeeee," he bellows, his voice still rough from sleep, the off key notes bouncing around the car and filling his ears with his own strained attempt at the song.

 

He feels entirely at one with Bridget Jones in this moment as he sings the chorus full belt, letting every ounce of despair colour another poorly executed note. As he's stopped at a traffic light, he lets his hand shoot out and up in a dramatic 'whoa is me' gesture and then grins toothily at the frowning businessman in the car beside him. 

 

"I'm gay," he mouths exaggeratedly, jabbing his thumb into his chest and watching delightedly as the man's face only becomes more affronted. What? Louis asks the judgmental voice in his mind, he looked like he needed an explanation.

 

So yes, maybe he has a habit of presenting himself as aggressively and unapologetically gay, admittedly provoking the ones with a stick up their ass with a particularly dirty kiss or feminine gesture. But honestly, if he can't use his sexuality for both good and evil, then why all the fuss about him being sent to hell? If he's supposedly going to hell for fucking boys, he's going to get his money's worth and be an absolute ass about it to all the religious, prudish assholes who deign to try to tell him how to live his life.

 

He shoots off ahead of the prude moments later as the light turns green, wishing it was warm enough to have the top down. In fact if he were at home, it’d probably be one of those moments where you just might find him skidding around the house in just undies and socks, singing you're the one that I want at the top of his lungs. It's the kind of moment that gives him a thrill, sets the blood rushing through his veins faster than before, because maybe he's all kinds of screwed up but he'll never be as screwed up as some stiff backed, close minded suit dweller who's life probably revolves around working himself to the bone at a job he doesn't like, to provide for a family he's begun to resent.

 

He'll never be as fucked up as all those people whose lives are so bitter, that they have to breathe hatred out through their pores just to expel some of their own toxicity. Louis will never be the type to deny himself the simple pleasures of existence again, because Louis' got his eye on the prize. His hands tighten on the wheel as he thinks of that burly voiced, doe eyed prize and the measures it might take to win him. All he knows is, Harry Styles is in for one hell of a shock if he thinks he's getting away now.  

 

....

 

It was all well and good for Louis to puff out his chest, and grip his steering wheel maddeningly tight two days ago. He’d been running off the high of antagonising an asshole and felt like Harry was within reach. It's a completely different story now as he looks over his reflection for the millionth time, straightening the collar of his shirt and pulling the black trousers upward.

 

"Louis if you don't leave this house soon, I'm going to-"  

 

Zayn's voice is stifled by Liam's hand which effectively muffles the rest of the threat. The two love birds are sitting on one side of Louis' bed, Zayn between Liam's legs (for a change). Niall sits on the other side leaning quite obviously away from their entangled limbs.

 

"Zayn would love it if you would stop worrying about how you look because you always look gorgeous Lou," Liam says. He’s smiling that closed mouth smile that reminds Louis of those people that go to door to door, handing out pamphlets about the road to spiritual freedom.  

 

In other words, he looks at every person he comes across like they're incapable of disappointing him. It might be true. He does seem to demand more of almost about everybody in his life, just by expecting people to rise to the challenge. Louis respects that. At least when he's not worrying about his own failure to do so.

 

"Thank you Liam," Louis says cheerfully, giving Zayn a meaningful look as he readjusts the lapels on the black suit jacket. 

 

The jacket has been pulled atop a plum coloured, collared shirt that contrasts nicely with his dark skin and blue eyes. He knows Harry's never seem him like this, all done up and refined but what if Harry doesn't like it? What if the strong, expensive cologne that Liam had forced on him is too much? What if the product in his quiff that Zayn had generously donated doesn't hold? And what if Niall's assistance, and expertise with music doesn't make up for the fact that Louis' pouring his heart out pathetically? It's a lot of what ifs, Louis can't even bring himself to laugh when Liam winces in pain as Zayn bites his hand.

 

"Ouch," Liam complains, rubbing his palm tenderly, "what was that for?"

 

Niall cackles at this, ever the eternally amused leprechaun, he reaches over and pats Liam's cheek affectionately.

 

"Oh Liam. You're so damn oblivious."

 

Liam's eyes almost cross with confusion and Louis takes pity on him with a loud sigh.

 

"You called me gorgeous."

 

Zayn looks like he's not sure who to murder first.

 

"Oh. Not as gorgeous as you babe. Not by a long shot," Liam says smoothly, leaning down to kiss the slope of Zayn's shoulder where it's exposed around the edge of his jacket.

 

"Now you're just sucking up," Zayn grumbles, crossing his arms like a despondent child.

 

Louis turns around to face them now and climbs onto the bed, waiting patiently for their innocent little quarrel to subside.

 

"Baby," Liam whines, "you know I think you're the prettiest thing on the planet. Remember the first time I saw you? I panicked and couldn't meet your eyes until Louis finally took me aside and told me to stop being such a coward."

 

A soft smile graces Zayn's face at the memory and he turns in Liam's legs, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. However Liam grabs Zayn's thigh to keep him there and suddenly the sounds of wet sucking fills the room.

 

"Louis," Niall whimpers, glancing at the intertwined couple, "I'm seeing things that I've only ever seen in documentaries about the mating practices of primates."

 

Louis can't see as much from his spot on the bed, but he's fairly sure Liam's hand has gravitated somewhere slightly west of Zayn's thigh, and poor Niall of all people has got a front row seat.

 

"C'mere Nialler," he says soothingly, patting his knee.

 

Niall crawls desperately over the covers and into Louis' lap, throwing his arms around Louis’ neck and clinging to him like an antsy koala. Louis had been half joking but he doesn't mind the boy's weight, and it's rather comforting knowing that Harry's best friend is so comfortable with him.

 

"You know," Niall whispers in his ear, "you're not going to screw it up."

 

Louis tilts his head as much as he can - the two pale arms wrapped around it limiting his movement - regarding Niall, who’s laughing blue eyes turn remarkably serious now.

 

"What if he doesn't...?” Louis starts.

 

"He does. I don't doubt it for a second," Niall assures him with a familiar grin.

 

Louis reaches up to ruffle his blond locks.

 

"If I ever fucked blondes and if I wasn’t you know...."

 

"In love with my best friend?"

 

Louis smiles softly but chooses to neither confirm nor deny.

 

"Maybe I'd be with somebody like you."

 

"And if I liked it up the arse," Louis snorts at this, "and my best friend wasn't going to end up with you, well…maybe I'd say the same."

 

They grin at each other stupidly before turning to note the couple still wrapped around each other and snogging

one another’s faces off.

 

"Alright, that's enough," Louis says, rubbing Niall's back theatrically, "you've damaged this poor, innocent boy’s eyes enough.”

 

Liam pulls away, blushing and looking fairly contrite but Zayn's grin is lazy and purely satisfied. Come to think of it, Louis notes, Zayn is not so dissimilar from him. Always unapologetically himself.

 

Niall slides off of Louis lap now, the three boys all turning to stare at him with different expressions. Liam's is so predictably expectant that Louis knows all he has to do is nod, letting Liam know that he won't give any less than all he has inside his little rickety heart.

 

Zayn's eyes are still a little hazed from his session with Liam, though his gaze is more intent and less expectantly hopeful. He expects as much as Liam, if not more, but he knows Louis too well to think simply asking nicely will motivate him. Louis can read the message in those dark eyes. Don't fuck it up Tommo. Fuck it up and you'll hear about it.

 

Finally, there's Niall. Niall, the boy who warned him not to screw with Harry and then watched as he basically did exactly that. Niall, the boy who sat with him as Louis scribbled words onto a page, the ink and his emotions bleeding out in tandem. The one who helped construct the melody that fit both the words, and everything Louis felt inside. Niall's eyes are simply encouraging. He is Louis' own personal cheerleader, the captain of the ship on which he's about to set sail. His eyes scream, "go get him. You're good enough for my best friend." Louis has never felt such love in one room, all expressed in different ways, yet all providing him with the courage he needs to do this.

 

"Phase 2 and hopefully 3. You ready?" Zayn says now as Louis stands.

 

"Ready as I'll ever be," he says, unable to resist the entirely appropriate cliché.

 

"Go team go," Niall says, his blue eyes filled with mirth.

 

Louis chuckles because of course Niall would happen to utter that just after he'd mentally compared him with a cheerleader.

 

Louis turns away from them now, heading towards the door and it's Liam that calls out as he opens it, taking one large, deep breath. 

 

"Charm the pants off him Lou!"

 

"Literally!" Zayn adds.

 

Louis jumps in the car with a megawatt grin on his face.

 

..... 

 

When Anne opens the door, she's already eyeing him with suspicion, her eyebrows drawn low over her eyes as she gives him a once over.

 

"What is this, ladette to lady?" She enquires, gesturing to his ensemble.

 

Louis lets out a sharp bark of laughter, thinking she's not too far off base.

 

"Perhaps," he says, inclining his head, "although I'd prefer scoundrel to stud if we're being frank."

 

"Aren't we always?" She says with a wink.

 

"You're a woman after my own heart Anne. Have to take me out sometime," he says teasingly, a smile perched on his lips.

 

"Is that...can I hear you flirting with my mother?" Harry calls out and both Anne and Louis dissolve into laughter.

 

"Jesus christ," Harry complains, his footsteps sounding on the floorboards as he looms closer, "it's just as well we're not going on a-"

 

Harry pops his head up behind Anne's and his reaction is priceless.

 

"Date?" Louis finishes for him, smirking just slightly, as Harry's face freezes over with shock.

 

"That's my cue!" Anne bellows, quickly repositioning her statue of a son as she attempts to move around him and exit the hallway.

 

"Have fun love," she says softly, giving his curls a passing pat before pointing an accusatory finger at Louis, "and you, scoundrel _or_ stud, whatever this mystery surprise is...you look after my boy."

 

Louis gives her a reassuring smile before finally turning to meet Harry's eyes. Harry's eyes however don't meet his own. They rake over his body hungrily, clinging to the tight trousers and the v shaped pocket of exposed skin around his shirt before at last, coming to rest on his face and just briefly touching on his carefully styled hair.

 

"Louis."

The sound is strangled and off balance and Louis can't help but tease, reaching up to tug on one of Harry's curls.

 

"Alright there Haz?" He grins at Harry, raising his eyebrows in expectation.

 

Harry's eyes flicker up to his own, then flutter down his mouth before finally falling to his shirt. He reaches out tentatively and grabs the bottom of the shirt, pulling it tighter against Louis' chest and sending a little zap of frenzied excitement up his spine.

 

"Is this silk?!" Harry asks, incredulous.

 

"Yes. Like the colour? It's plum."

 

Louis exposes his teeth to Harry, purely delighted, as Harry stares at him for a moment before suddenly cupping Louis’ small hips in his large hands, his thumbs extending outward to graze the bottom of Louis' ribcage. He runs them down over Louis' abdominals, a small cauldron of lust sizzling quietly in Louis' stomach as the static surrounding them stretches on.

 

"Ah, Harry," Louis prompts the younger boy, who looks positively hypnotised, staring at the fitted shirt like it's all he can do not to dispose of it right here on the doorstep.

 

This is a good start. Louis might just be walking on sunshine right now. Harry's eyes fly up to his at Louis’ words, abruptly releasing his hold, effectively startled.

 

"Sorry," he says desperately, "don't mind me. You just look...different I s'pose.”

 

Louis cannot help himself, he flutters his eyelashes slightly and frowns just barely. 

 

"Different bad?" He murmurs.

 

Harry grabs his chin forcefully, a tentative smile painted on his lips as his eyes catch Louis' with intent.

 

"Different like wherever we're going, you're going to be fighting them off with a stick," Harry clarifies, voice fierce with what might just be pride, "more so than usual that is."

 

Harry releases his chin and Louis sends him a knowing wink.

 

"They don't stand a chance."

"They don't?"

 

Harry's lips part with surprise as he studies Louis' expression for any traces of humour.

 

"That's why I need to talk to you. I've kind of...got my eye on someone," Louis admits, leaning his head against the door frame.

 

Harry's eyes seemingly deaden before he looks down at his own clothing. A pair of black jeans teamed with a loose grey t-shirt. It's simple and understated but he looks gorgeous as always.

 

"I should probably change," Harry says solemnly, ignoring Louis' comment completely, "I'm obviously underdressed."

 

Louis' skin tightens, his heartbeat slowing at the way Harry refuses to meet his eyes. If he continues to perceives every cue Harry gives him this way, he's not going to make it past phase two. So he forces the anxiety out of his mind and tugs on Harry's belt loop instead.

 

"No. You look perfect the way you are. Let's go," he pleads, inwardly cringing at his use of the word perfect.

 

Surely Harry's clued in to how fucking alluring Louis finds him by now. He's giving the game away quicker than he planned. Yet Harry barely reacts, smiling tightly at him before stepping out the door, pushing Louis back in the process and closing it quietly behind himself.

 

It isn't until they arrive at the pub that Harry looks over at him with a curious eye.

 

"This is where we're going?" He says, clearly taken aback, "this is the mystery surprise?"  

 

Louis just rolls his eyes and jumps from the car, leaning down to flick one of Harry's curls.

 

"Honestly Harold. Have a little faith."

 

Louis holds out a hand, playing at being gallant because this all has to go well. Harry stares at it for eons before finally putting his hand inside Louis' and joining him outside the car.

 

Once inside, it's all systems go as Louis tells Harry to wait by the door much to Harry's annoyance, and stalks across the bar to where Stan is checking his watch anxiously.

 

"I'm here," He whispers in the other lad's ear, watching with amusement as Stan whips around, looking startled.

 

"Now? It's time?"

 

If it were at all possible, Stan looks giddier than Louis and Louis suddenly loves that all his mates are so concerned with his love life. Although he suspects that after the last few years of listening to a vast array of tales about wild one night stands and rough, animalistic sex, they'd just like to see him settle down to a dull, slightly less dynamic life. How clueless. He might be gunning for a monogamous relationship with Harry but he also has plans. Plans that hopefully mean Harry's thighs will be forever shaking, his eyes eternally glazed from Louis' rampant touch. Monogamy doesn't have to mean monotony.

 

"Yes, now," Louis confirms, clapping his mate on the shoulder.

 

Stan nods before climbing up onto the bar. He whistles loudly but the occupants of the bar are seemingly oblivious. He rolls his eyes, huffing a sigh and then let's out an all mighty yell.

 

"Right, you lot," he says, his voice carrying over the boisterous conversation and instantly commanding silence, "Listen up."

 

Ah, how useful it is to have a mate who owns a pub. When Louis turns to meet Harry's eyes, Harry raises a questioning eyebrow but Louis just grins and turns back around to face Stan.

 

"So I warned you all week we'd be closing early tonight for a special event. That time has come. So drink up because I'm shutting the doors in ten and you're all getting booted out...but," And Stan grins deviously now, "if you ask my mate Louis," he jumps off the bar, letting his hand come down hard on Louis' shoulder, "he just might shout you a pint next time you're in to make up for it."

 

There's some laughter and a few shouts of, "I'll hold him to it" and then Louis' got Stan in a headlock and Stan's struggling for all his worth, cackling like the wicked witch of the west.

 

"What have you done?!" Louis cries, releasing him but not without a well-deserved glower.

 

"Sealed your fate of course," Stan's eyes are all lit up with mischief, "just ensuring you pay my loyal, paying customers back for the disservice you're doing 'em." 

 

"Should have known," Louis sighs, resigned, "you never do anything for free, do you?"

 

That's when Harry joins the party, startling Louis when he sticks a hand out from behind him and smiles widely at Stan.

 

"I'm Harry," he says jovially, "it seems Louis couldn't be bothered to introduce me."

 

Stan smirks at this turn of events and Louis inwardly groans as Stan grips Harry's hand too tight, Harry wincing a little and jolting forward when Stan squeezes. 

 

“I'm Stan. Louis' best mate."

 

Harry sends him a confused look.

 

"How many best mates do you have?"

 

"Just you and Zayn as of a few minutes ago."

 

Stan elbows him lightly in retaliation but Louis just smiles all slant eyed at Harry, paying no mind. Harry chuckles but then turns to Stan with an exaggerated whisper.

 

"He likes to pretend he doesn't care about people."

Stan winks at his new co-conspirator and then waggles his eyebrows at Louis.

 

"Kid knows you better than you do."

 

Louis just scoffs and pulls Harry away by the front of his shirt. Bloody charming bastard.

 

"So Stan is shutting down the bar? For us?"

 

Harry still looks just as confused as before they came in, and Louis finds it fifty shades of adorable when his nose scrunches up with apparent frustration.

 

Louis nods and Harry huffs in response, clearly expecting a better explanation. It's a few minutes later that Stan ushers the last of the customers out with a pointed finger and a vague, non-threatening warning, turning to wave goodbye to Harry and serve Louis up a suggestive grin.

 

"So…now what?" Harry asks, looking baffled.

 

"Now, my dear boy," Louis pauses for dramatic effect, "the fun begins."

 

Harry looks frankly terrified, leading Louis to trill a laugh as he grabs Harry's hand and pulls him towards the makeshift stage. Harry eyes the setup warily.

 

"You want me to sing? Louis, I'm not singing right now. I don't even-"  Louis presses a finger to the boy's mouth, stopping him from babbling while simultaneously trying to quell his own nervousness about the events that are about to unfold.

 

"Not you sunshine," his smile is a little anticipatory and a lot nervous, "me."

 

Harry's eyes pop and he glances rapidly between the piano and Louis' face, finally coming to some kind of conclusion about all of it.

 

"You....you sing? I mean...you want to sing for me?" He stumbles over the words, looking dazed.

 

Louis doesn't respond, just mounts the stage with a little leap and settles himself down in the piano chair. When he looks back up, he finds Harry's lovely mouth being bitten raw as he stares so deeply at Louis, that Louis finds himself itching just to look away. Yet the show must go on. So he pats the space on the seat beside him and waits patiently as Harry very slowly makes his way over.

 

Louis' just about to let his fingers trickle over the keys when Harry grabs his hand, pressing the pad of his thumb into the center of his palm firmly. His eyes are less chaotic now, less frazzled. They're just...overtly fond and all Louis can pray for is that they remain that way long after.

 

"I just wanted to say...thank you," Harry murmurs, releasing his hand now.

 

Louis' only response is to begin to play, letting Niall's melody flow through to his fingers as he summons his own words, the ones he crafted just for this moment. Just for Harry.

 

_Boy, I see it in your eyes you're disappointed_

_Cause I'm the foolish one that you anointed with your heart_

_I tore it apart_

_And babe, what a mess I made upon your innocence,_

_And nobody in the world deserves this,_

_But here I am, asking you_

_For one more chance_

 

Louis looks up to gauge Harry's response, faltering slightly because Harry looks so very troubled, biting his lip once more as his whole face scrunches up tight. He looks tortured and tormented all at once and it takes a huge amount of strength for Louis to force himself to keep playing, to not ask why Harry's eyes aren't lit up like a like a Christmas tree like he hoped they might be.

 

"Can we fall, one more time," he sings, pleading with Harry's lost expression, the discomfort in his eyes, "stop the tape and rewind. Oh and if you walk away I know I'll fade cause there is nobody else."

 

Louis eyes flicker closed as the chorus pours out his mouth like tightly congealed syrup or something equally sweet. 

_It's gotta be you,_

_only you._

 

_It's gotta be you,_

_oh, only you._

 

Harry reaches up with slightly trembling fingers and begins to card his hand through the back of Louis hair. His eyes flit up to Louis' and away again quickly whenever Louis leans a little closer.

 

_Now love, I hear it in your voice and how it trembles,_

_when I speak to you I don't resemble who I was._

_You've almost had enough._

_And your actions speak louder than words,_

_And you're about to break from all you've heard._

 

_But don't be scared. I ain't going nowhere._

 

The promise he's making bleeds across the space between them, from his earnest blue eyes to Harry's uncertain green ones. Louis just hopes all of the things he’s yet to say flow across that space too.

 

"I'll be here, by your side," Louis glances down at the space between them, grinning a little and feeling just a touch of hope as Harry's lips twitch too, "no more fears, no more crying. But if you walk away, I know I'll fade cause there is nobody else.”

 

Louis makes it through another chorus, his own eyes shining, seemingly reflecting the slight sheen and what might just be wonder, in Harry’s. Now comes the real plea and here, he grabs Harry's hand, letting the piano fall silent and just concentrates on the boy before him.

 

The boy with the kind of brightness you only come across once in your life. Sure, it had frightened Louis to begin with, frustrated him even. How could anybody be so damn hopeful, so damn charming all the time? He'd tried to shove Harry away but truth be told, he'd done a less than satisfactory job. Harry wasn't the type to be shoved, getting inside Louis and ruining him for everybody else. A part of Louis has always known that no other head of hair will ever generate such fondness, no other pair of green eyes will ever cause quite the same plummet of his stomach, and no full bottom lip will ever draw his eyes quite like Harry's.

 

So as many times as he fought against it and let that instinctual defensive reflex kick in, he couldn't have prevented this if he tried. He's always thought of attractive males as his for the taking. Objects of pleasure to be respected for their innate ability to offer him what he desired. Though not made for anything as intimate as recognising or even opening himself up to their complexities, for showing them his own.

 

It's different with Harry. Harry is a kind of a work of art, and sure Louis wants to sully him with his own abstract impurities every time he lets his eyes fall to those legs that extend for miles, or those shapely muscles. Yet it's so much more complicated than that because he wants to preserve Harry too. To protect him even. To be the one thing standing between Harry and the potential for the ugliness and brutality that the universe holds.

 

Louis also wants something he's never wanted with anybody until now. He wants to offer himself. He doesn't just want to call Harry his. He wants to belong to Harry and have everything that it entails. It's a heady thought, dizzying perhaps but as Louis lets the words stream out of him, it reverberates within him, strengthening the intense look already burning in his eyes.

 

_Oh love, can we try one more, one more time?_

 

_One more, one more, can we try?_

 

_One more, one more time_

 

_I'll make it better._

_One more, one more, can we try?_

 

_One more, one more,_

 

_Can we try one more time?_

 

_To make it all better._

Louis sings the chorus one last time in a higher pitch, his eyes only ever leaving Harry's when the tension forces them closed, the words ringing out like a ceremonial chant or mantra and really, it's not so far off. This is his promise to Harry, his vow, his apology, a plea and everything in between.

 

The song finishes with a few more notes of piano and when the last note sounds and Louis' hands still upon the keys, the silence is deafening. He looks up cautiously, his eyes skittering along Harry's jaw and pausing at his mouth before at long last, edging their way up to his eyes. Yet he can't read the expression within them. He feels utterly helpless when Harry opens his mouth, his hand having fallen from Louis hair at some point during the song.

 

"That make you feel better?" Harry asks and his bottom lip is trembling.

 

Now Louis sees the tightness of every line around Harry's eyes, the pale tint to his skin instead of its usual blush, the way he grips the bottom of the piano chair, his knuckles straining as if about to pop through the skin. Harry is livid. Louis feels like he's just been hit by a truck. What happened to the boy who looked upon him with wonder, possibly even cautious hope?

 

"Wh...What?" He stutters, nausea climbing up his throat.

 

"Did it make you feel better to put it all in a song and confess that you want a second chance? Because oh yeah...I found somebody else."

 

The comment is biting and Louis doesn't like this sharp, sarcastic version of Harry. He doesn't like the hard edged fury he sees in his eyes.

 

"Harry-" He tries, all croaky voiced and quietly sad.

 

"I knew it. I knew you were jealous. Of course you were. You didn't have your little play thing to follow you around anymore, did you? But that's all it is to you isn't it? A big show. Manipulation after manipulation. You play at feeling something real so I come running back, and then you'll go right back to sticking it in whoever it will fit in," Harry says venomously, flicking his curls from his eyes.

 

Louis recoils in shock as if slapped, his skin burning. Harry just...he never thought Harry would...Harry just said he's desperate for it. He's obviously misunderstood the whole gesture. Louis could explain it to him. He could spill out the pathetic mess of emotions that he's become over Harry recently into the tense air, perhaps dispel all this bitterness.

 

Yet suddenly the three pronged plan loses all appeal. If Harry really thinks so little of him, what is the point? He clearly doesn't see anything in Louis beyond his past...unlike what Louis had wrongly assumed. He'd thought Harry might have seen something in him that no other person ever had. The side of him that not only wanted more than cheap flings but needed it, perhaps even still deserved it despite the way he lived his life.

 

Yet now Harry's yelling at him and with one comment, he's revealed just how small and vile he finds Louis. Like all this time, he'd only been fooled as to Louis' real persona and now he sees him for the worthless piece of shit that he really is. So no longer does Louis want to share himself and his heart with Harry. Right now, he wants to go home, rip this disgustingly snobby suit to pieces, curl up in his bed and forget that he ever thought that things could be different with Harry. Forget that he ever thought Harry might just change his mind.

"Guess I'll just be leaving then. I'll get Niall to pick you up," Louis says quietly, completely distant and emotionless as he stands up and begins to walk away.

 

He really couldn't bear to spend a minute more with Harry, the boy who made him feel lower than low.

 

"I'll walk," Harry growls and Louis doesn't protest.

 

He doesn't look back either as he exits the pub and jumps in his car, speeding all the way home like a lunatic. When he gets in, he slams the door shut and hears the voices in the kitchen pause as he makes his way to bed. He'd told the lads to stay, that he'd come home straight after and tell them everything. That is if he wasn't getting busy with Harry in his car for half the night. Now he feels like a right fool. How could he have possibly thought it would work out?

 

He rips his clothes off his body, throwing them in random directions before flopping onto his bed and burying his face in the pillow. The door creaks open a few minutes later but just one set of quiet footsteps trail around the bed to his side. A hand smooths his hair down against the base of his neck, and he smells the familiar scent of nicotine mixed with hair gel and a trace of spray paint.

 

"Lou," Zayn whispers, "Li's gone home. Niall too. I ah, spoke to Harry. He texted me."

 

Louis doesn't respond, preferring to let his heavy, tight breaths collide with his pillow as he tries to hold back the avalanche of combined humiliation and sadness. It's only when Zayn brushes the side of his cheek, wiping away a stray tear, that he realises he's actually crying. Crying like a little boy. Crying because Harry Styles broke his fucking heart.

"I'm sorry Lou. Why didn't you just explain? Just tell him that-"  

 

Louis wrenches his head up from the pillow and watches Zayn's eyes tighten protectively as he notes Louis' state of despair. With red rimmed eyes and trembling lips, he lets loose.

 

"He thinks I fuck everything that moves!" He shouts, the sound ripping out of his voice box and burning his throat raw on the way out.

 

"Did he say that?" Zayn asks, clearly sceptical.

 

"He said and I quote, that I 'stick it in whoever it will fit in.' He basically told me I'm gagging for it. That I'm a slut...or a man whore or just, whatever. The point is," Louis lets out a shaky breath, "he's right. That's all I did, that's all I was before but...I thought," another laboured breath, "I thought that he saw me differently. I thought he'd noticed me changing."

 

"I dunno Z, am I overreacting? Is he right? Should I start walking around with a ruby coloured A painted on my chest?"

 

The words bubble off his lips desperately as he feels his chest rising too quickly, trying to make up for rapid oxygen depletion. Zayn shushes him and then runs his hand across his forehead and down the side of his face.

 

"No, Lou," his voice is firm, "that's not okay. Sure you may have slept with more than a few guys but that doesn't make it okay for him to talk to you like that. Nobody calls my best friend a slut. Harry's a prick."

 

Louis smiles a slightly wobbly, still saddened smile.

 

"It's okay Zaynie. You don't have to speak ill of him. I know you guys are really close now and..."

 

Zayn slaps a hand over Louis' mouth and stares him down, unsmiling.

 

"You will always be my best mate. Not Harry. Kid's pretty wonderful. Or so I thought. But he's got a lot to learn if he thinks he can talk to you that way. I'm going to talk to him. I'm going to put the fear of God into him."

 

Zayn's voice is gruff and angry as he continues to stroke Louis' face but Louis reaches up and grabs his wrist.

 

"No Zayn. Please don't. Just let it go. I don't want to talk about it again. I just want to forget Harry....and everything I thought could happen. It was ridiculous," Louis laughs humourlessly, "and clearly he thought so too."

 

Zayn's face twists into a grimace but he doesn't say anything, choosing instead to help Louis into bed, sliding in behind him and spooning him tightly from behind.

 

"You boys, you and Liam, you're my family. Thank you. Thank you for being here, for saving me from decimating a tub of ice cream or something equally as pathetic," Louis says, reaching behind him to pay Zayn's hip.

 

Zayn rubs his head against Louis'.

 

"I'll always save you Loueh."

 

It's just the kind of promise that Louis needs to hear whilst it comforts his aching soul, he does feel one more fat tear slip out of his eye as he closes them. Part 2 of the plan: complete. Part 3: cancelled effective immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, changed up a few of the lyrics of gotta be you to fit my own agenda mwhahaha. But honestly, whenever I listen to it now, I hear this version and imagine Louis singing to Harry :')  
> Thanks to K.K as always x  
> Pwease comment c: Pwetty pwease with sugar on top.


	12. Chapter 12

“Louis,” Liam says sternly and Louis can just hear the warning in his tone.

 

“Yes Liam?” Louis replies from his sedentary position.

 

It’s been a while since he’s moved more than a few metres off the couch, and even then it was to go to the toilet or order takeaway. A while being five days. He kind of smells like a mix of wet sponge and stale sheets. He’s sure if he goes out like this, children might look up at his unshaven face and scream for their mothers. Louis can only imagine. “Mummy, look at the scary monster!” “What dear? Oh, the man…yes he’s half human, half grizzly bear. Best keep close. He looks like the uncivilised type.” Then again, maybe Louis’ being unfair, maybe the general public would be more charitable than prejudiced towards his hybridity.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Louis is lying curled up in the fetal position wearing just his briefs, his jumper from the last time he bothered to change his clothes (oh the good old days when he cared about personal hygiene) draped across him like a blanket. He’s facing the back of the couch, studiously ignoring the scarily high number of takeout containers littered across the table and the floor. He  turns over finding Liam standing over him, mouth puckered with concern as he gives Louis that “I’m judging you” look that’s pretty much trademark at this point.

 

“Testing a hypothesis. I’m investigating whether it’s possible to melt into and become part of the furniture if you lie on it for long enough. I think it’d be quite nice to be a couch really and-“

 

“What the fuck Louis,” Liam growls, cutting into his philosophical rambling, “is this why Zayn wouldn’t let me come over?”

 

This kind of amuses Louis, in the distant, remote way that things tend to amuse him these days.

 

“Perhaps,” he acknowledges, slinging his arm out like a chimpanzee to knock it against a luke warm container perched precariously on the corner of the table, “spring roll?”

 

Liam’s lip curls with disgust as he pulls Louis’ jumper away and throws it across the room. Louis glares at him.

 

“No, I do not want a spring roll Louis! Now get the hell up. Is this what you call forgetting about him? Is this you moving on from Harry?” Louis cringes, “Jesus Christ, you fucking flinch at his name. Maybe you should think about facing this for once.”

 

“For once? What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

 

“Look,” Liam sighs, clearly trying not to get worked up, “Zayn lets these kinds of things go and only gives you a kick up the ass when you really need it. But this time…this time he’s wrong because this is classic Louis, classic avoidance. You really need it this time. Look I’m usually the first to baby you, but you need a kick up the ass right now and if Zayn’s not going to give it to you, I sure as hell am.”

 

Louis raises an eyebrow.

 

“Going against your soul mate? Risky business that,” He notes, feigning concern.

 

Liam rolls his eyes.

 

“I’ll starting cleaning up this mess, you go take a shower. When you get back we’ll have some proper dinner, then you can get a good night’s sleep ready for uni bright and early tomorrow,” Liam details the plan, looking far too optimistic.

 

“Appreciate the thought Li…but why on earth would I want to do that when I can lie here, luxuriating in my own filth and solving the biggest unsolved mysteries of life?”

 

Liam looks impatient as his hands clutch his hips.

 

“Oh, like what?”

 

“Like, you know how sometimes you lose the end of the tape and you run your finger around the whole loop and it’s nowhere to be found? But then you run it around one more time and bam, what do you know? The end of the tape reappears and I was just thinking that maybe-“

 

“Louis, this is ridiculous!” Liam bellows, interrupting Louis once more as Louis bears a petulant pout.

 

“If by ridiculous, you mean it’s ridiculous how easy it is for the end to disappear and then reappear then yes-“

 

“Louis,” Liam warns with gritted teeth.

 

Louis abruptly shuts up but hey, Liam asked. All he did was give an honest answer. He could well be the one to solve this worldwide tape disaster. They will call him…the Tape Sultan. Come to think of it, that chicken that he ate earlier might have been a few days old…and a little off. His mind does seem a little more erratic than usual. Oh well.

 

“Are you going to get up or not?” Liam finally sighs, pulling the snapback off his head so he can give Louis the real killer look.

 

Funnily enough, it still works. Even in his deadened and destroyed state of mind. Louis pulls his heavy limbs into a standing position, wondering if this is what it feels like to awake from a coma. Probably a bad comparison. He’s not really entitled to that much. His whole body does feel like a foreign object however. Not at all like muscles and bones that are supposed to obey his commands.

 

“Shower, now,” Liam orders, already scooping up containers off the floor.

 

Actually, a shower does sound rather nice. Hot steaming water flowing off his grimy, oily skin, washing away the remnants of his period of deterioration. He certainly won’t be thinking about an 18 year old boy with washboard abs and killer legs, that’s for sure. Louis’ got better things to do…like ah, scrub away five days’ worth of filth.

 

When Louis returns from the shower smelling less like a trash can and more like mangoes (or whatever type of fruit his shampoo happens to smell like this month), Liam’s cleaned up every ounce of mess and has taken up Louis’ spot on the couch. He’s sitting there cross legged smiling goofily down at his screen, and Louis can only assume that Zayn just texted him something adorable. No bitter sarcasm in Louis’ mind…of course not. He leaps over the table and into the spot beside Liam who jumps slightly, clearly off in his own world.

 

“Did you tell Zayn that you kicked my ass off the couch?” Louis asks.

 

“Yep,” Liam confirms, “he promised a reward when I return.”

 

Louis mimes puking and Liam shoves him into the side of the couch. When Louis rebounds, he’s smiling, maybe not crinkly eyed or with any sense of true happiness but with the kind of genuineness, he knows Liam needs to see on his face.

 

“So um…how are things in the bedroom…with you two?” Louis asks now, praying Liam doesn’t interpret this as a request for any real details.

 

“As in, do I feel like I’m good enough now? Yes Louis, thank you,” Liam smiles at him with squinted, happy eyes.

 

“Oh, I didn’t-“

 

“I know you told him what I said and what to do and I know I was being unnecessarily insecure.” Liam says this all very quickly.

 

“He told you?”

 

Louis’ more than a little surprised.

 

“Nope,” Liam grins at him, “but I figured it out. He’s not as mysterious as he thinks and you’re hardly James Bond.”

 

Louis just shrugs.

 

“Seriously, thank you. Things are so good with us right now. I’m thinking I may even ask…I mean I dunno how Zayn would feel about it…” Liam trails off, biting down on his thumb nail with anxious eyes.

 

“Liam Payne, are you thinking about asking my boy to marry you?!” Louis shouts, his eyes lighting up like two big blue globes.

 

“Shh!” Liam hushes him which makes Louis laugh.

 

“Liam, he’s not here! It’s just you and me,” he says, grabbing the boy’s shoulder.

 

“Sorry,” Liam smiles, slightly abashed, “it’s just, you’re only the second person I’ve told and I really haven’t decided anything yet and-“

 

“Second?!” Louis screeches, cutting him off, “who was the first?”

 

Liam’s eyes go wide before he begins nervously chewing on his nail again.

 

“Not…Har…not him?” Louis asks more quietly but Liam shakes his head aggressively.

 

“No Lou. I only had this idea fairly recently… and I haven’t seen him since before the last time you saw him. But um, as for, um…Niall…well he didn’t do anything wrong, and Zayn and I quite like having him round,” Liam rushes to explain, “and well, you haven’t exactly been available.”

 

That last comment is the only thing that stops Louis from throttling both Liam and Niall for having this conversation without him.

 

“Right,” Louis says slowly, “you’re right. I’m sorry.”

 

Liam just takes Louis’ hand in his and cradles it in his lap, not saying a word in response and not needing to. He’d forgive Louis anything.

 

“So tell me Mr. Payne. Where? When? What will you say? What will you wear? Oh…who gets to be your best man? If you don’t say me, you know I’m going to go get all those takeout containers from the rubbish and rub the remnants of that nasty food all over that batman costume you love so much. The one I know for a fact Zayn has a certain well…fondness for…shall we say.”

 

Liam gives him a long look.

 

“Of course you would be my best man…if he says yes…though you’d probably stand with him. I mean, he’d want you to be his. Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be mine too though, right?”

 

Liam’s cute like this, all insecure and dorky. Like Louis couldn’t possibly love him as much as he loves Zayn.

 

“Of course…and I’d only stand with Zayn because he’s less likely to get angry with me for whispering dirty comments in his ear during the boring parts of the ceremony,” Louis teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

“You can’t do that Louis!”

 

Louis just stares at him with an arched eyebrow until Liam’s horrified look finally settles into one of amusement.

 

“Oh…right. Point taken.”

 

“Anyway, you still haven’t told me any details!” Louis complains.

 

“Well, it wouldn’t be for a while but I was thinking…”

 

Louis nods along as Liam explains, his smile broadening in response to the most romantic ideas. In this moment, he feels like he can play the part of the best friend whose own best friends might be getting engaged sometime soon. He can smile at the right places and be the right amount of supportive, allowing for some of his trademark comedy to slip through. He can convince the two people he loves more than anything in this world that he is entirely happy for them. That’s what sacrifice is.

 

Because when Liam finally leaves that night, after making Louis some steak and vegetables and forcing him to promise that he’ll attend uni tomorrow, Louis drags his dead weight of a body to his bedroom and curls up in his bed alone, feeling sick with sadness. Liam and Zayn are going to get married and probably adopt two little boys and have the perfect family and the perfect life, all before they even turn 25.

 

Louis can just see it now; Zayn being the lax parent, always wanting to teach them how to draw or reading them comic books way past their bedtime, while Liam pushes their studies and promises Zayn a morning blowie if he just puts them to bed on time for once. Yet here is Louis, still alone, still stuck in the same place he’d been in before he’d met _him._ Before he met the first person to ever really force him to consider that his life might not be as complete as he used to assume.

 

So Louis falls asleep to the sounds of all time low softly emanating from his phone, a band that he’d never paid much attention, not until he’d stumbled across some lyrics scrolling through Tumblr one night this week when he was feeling particularly bored and beat. It’s like they’re singing his story of late. All that bravado, all that poorly constructed confidence…it was all for show and it always had been. Harry had seen that from the beginning. What had he said? Something about his home not being homey, just kind of…lonely and Louis had denied it to no end.

 

Yet now that all the band-aids have been ripped off with Harry’s evaluation of his character, he knows himself more than he ever wanted to. He’d pushed everyone away, including Harry because there was always a part of him that wanted to believe he could be self-sufficient, that he needed to be in order to get by. A part of him that thought he was incapable of intimacy and love after Zach and maybe…maybe he hadn’t wanted to blacken Harry’s soul with his own darkness. The song stings in his ears and pounds in his chest.

_Arrogant boy,_

_Love yourself so no one has to._

_They’re better off without you._

Louis doesn’t know how many times he’ll have to put on a brave face in the coming weeks, months, or perhaps even years. This thing inside him is seemingly extending out from his heart to block the spaces in his ribs, traveling through his veins and bursting blood vessels as it goes. It doesn’t feel like it’s slipping away any time soon.

 

He recalls thinking that he was ruined for anybody else. How very pertinent that seems in this moment. It seems that whoever wrote this song can detail it better than he can. He’s a walking, talking mess but somehow the wheels keep turning and so too does the world. Even when he doesn’t want it to.

_I’m a walking travesty_

_But I’m smiling at everything_

.....

 

The texts start on Monday when Louis' back at uni, sitting in the library reading about the art of controlling one's emotions to portray a character in a specific way. How appropriate. When Louis' phone buzzes in his pocket, he pulls it out unthinkingly, expecting another concerned enquiry from Liam or another offer to smoke up from Zayn. Niall on the other hand has ceased all contact with him. He suspects Harry asked him to do so. Louis tries not to let that hurt, that Harry feels such disgust that he won't even let Niall near him. Louis supposes he's just worried Niall will catch his slutty tendencies...or something.  

 

Harry: _I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said and how I handled it. Maybe we could talk?_   

 

Louis stares at his phone for almost five minutes, abandoning his text book and letting all of his ferocious anger overwhelm him for a moment before forcing it all back. Control one's emotions. Portray the right character. Louis takes a deep breath and then shoves the phone back into his pocket. 

 

Yet it doesn't end there as Louis had thought it would. As he's getting into his car later that night, his phone goes off again and this time he jumps a little.  

 

Harry: _Dare 4 distance - never shout never. 'Although the distance is daring, we both know how to drive_    

 

Louis looks up the song once he's home and finds that he feels....uniquely blank.

 

_I got the concept and came to the conclusion_

_That the top floor was just an illusion_

_To the fact that I got this break in my back_

_That I can't get out, I can't figure out how_

_You appeared right in front of me_

_before you marched down South, the university_

_is where you spend your daylight_

_we’re both just waiting for this Friday night_

_Although the distance is daring, we both know how to drive_

_Oh, we can't make up for the lost times that we both apologize for_

_and I can't stand the fact that this extremity is the center of my day_

_I see where you're coming from,_

_We've been on the same boat since day one_

_I see how you like to run_

_back to the things that got you here, oh_

_although the distance is daring, we both know how to drive_

_Oh, we can't make up for the lost times that we both apologize for_

_and I can't stand the fact that this extremity is the center of my day_

_you’re the center of my day_

_Oh, Mondays I sleep away_

_Tuesdays I lay awake_

_Wednesdays they are the worst_

_Whoa, Thursdays I reminisce_

_Friday, I see your face and I can't breathe_

 

 It was like Harry had destroyed him so thoroughly that he can't even feel his punctured lungs trying to breathe anymore, can't feel the dull thud of his heartbeat in his chest. 

 

An hour later, another text arrives as Louis climbs from the shower and checks his phone where it lies by the basin. 

 

Harry: _Louis, stop ignoring me. Please. Just talk to me._

 

By the time he's gotten into bed, the blankness has been replaced with uneasiness. He lies there staring at the ceiling, unable to stop his mind from drifting to soft curls beneath his hand and gentle fingers pressed into the nape of his neck. 

 

 Harry: _Mondays, I sleep away_

 

 

It seems that he and Harry are at odds with this because Louis' unsettled train of thought keeps him up half the night. However it's not enough to encourage Louis to reply. He's done with Harry. This time, he's the one who's done. 

 

....

 

The pleas for communication continue throughout Tuesday, Harry’s final text for the day holding a lyric. Louis’ already too frustrated for words.

 

Harry: _Tuesdays I lay awake..._

 

.....

 

Wednesday evening, it's just as he's coming out of his lecture hall that that he collides with someone in a purple jacket and loose black jeans.

 

"Niall?" Louis squeaks, steadying the boy as he sways from the impact.

 

"Louis," Niall says, a grave look on his face.

 

"What are you doing here?"

 

Niall throws his arms around Louis' waist now and buries his head in Louis' shoulder for a moment.

 

"I missed you," he says, pulling back with a slow, slightly solemn smile.

 

"Well...you're the one who-"

 

"I know," Niall cuts him off, "I thought maybe..." he bites his lip now, "I thought maybe you would be angry with me."

 

"What? Why on earth would I be angry with you? You didn't imply all I do is sleep around, now did you?"

 

Niall's blue eyes are tight with tension as he grabs Louis' hand and squeezes.

 

"I did tell you it would be fine though. I didn't expect Harry to...to say what he did."

 

Niall looks proper cut up about it and it softens Louis even further.  

 

"Niall, I don't blame you. You didn't know. How could you have known?" Louis smiles dejectedly into the other boy's eyes, "Harry and I...it was a mistake."

 

Niall chews his lip again at this.

 

"You know, he's um...he's sorry you know. He doesn't want it to be like this.”

 

Louis flashes him a warning look.

 

"Yeah I got that from the numerous texts he's been sending me but it doesn't change what happened, does it? Doesn't change the intent behind his words," He spits out.

 

Niall nods but looks tempted to fight Louis on it.

 

"Want to get some food?" Louis offers, determined to change the subject.

 

Niall nods now, smiling genuinely back at Louis.

Louis feels marginally better about things knowing he hasn't lost Niall. Niall's stories about getting caught eating disgusting amounts of food at parties make Louis laugh and it’s for real for the first time in days. If he falters slightly when Niall mentions Harry, recalling the time that Harry had tried to help him smuggle out food only to drop it before they reached the door, it's only because he's become accustomed to Zayn's tightly controlled anger or Liam’s quiet protectiveness lacing the word.

 

Yet even Niall's reappearance in his life can't chase away the loud, frustrated sigh that escapes him when another customary text arrives. 

 

Harry: _Wednesdays are the worst...._

 

....

 

Thursday, it's a selfie of him holding his Love Actually and The Holiday DVD's and Louis will certainly not soften, not even at the pouted bottom lip or trace of Mishka's fur in the background.

 

The caption is another lyric, of course.

 

Harry: _Thursday's, I reminisce...._

 

....

 

By Friday, Louis already knows what's coming.

 

Harry: _Friday, I see your face?_

 

This one doesn't come late at night like usual. It comes just as school ends, almost as if Harry still hopes Louis might show up in his car to pick him up like normal. Louis can't pretend that his stomach doesn't twist a little at the thought of Harry waiting there alone for him, but he ignores it...and the text…because he will not pity the boy who broke his heart in two. He will not.

 

Harry's texts that night grow progressively sourer and Louis welcomes the change because at least it's not sadness. At least it's not a lyrical plea that makes his fingers twitch as he batters down the urge to reply.

 

Harry: _Louis, why won't you talk to me?_

 

Harry: _I'm sorry for what I said._

 

Harry: _how many times do I have to say it?!_

 

Harry: _You're being a real ass about this_

 

Harry: _Louis. For Christ sake, I know you're reading all these._

 

Harry: _You'll see my best mate but not me. Please._

 

The last one however is resigned and it packs quite a punch. Louis feels slightly winded. 

 

Harry: _I just miss you. But I guess you want nothing more to do with me. Sleep well Lou .xx_  

 

Louis does not sleep well at all.

 

....

 

The sadness blocking up his airways lasts all weekend, and on Sunday it all comes to a head. He goes to the pub to meet Niall for a pint and instead finds a curly headed, flannel wearing, green eyed doe waiting.

 

Louis considers fleeing but then he remembers that he's not a bloody coward. He's Louis, 'the Tommo' Tomlinson and he doesn't back down from a fight. He doesn't run away, and he certainly doesn't let boys in tight jeans and pointed boots, chase him away from his favourite pub.

 

"I s'pose you and Niall thought this was a great plan?," Louis whispers in Harry's ear, using a cutting tone.

 

When Harry turns to face him, there's too many emotions flowing over his face for Louis to catch them all. Sadness. Regret. Fear. Uncertainty.

 

His gaze trails down Louis' body, not leaving one inch of it untouched before traveling all the way back up to meet his eyes. Louis moves to stand at the other end of the table, leaning across it toward Harry and meeting his eyes without flinching. He will not be intimidated.

 

"Ah, he just...don't blame Ni...he just wanted to help," Harry says, his voice shaking slightly.

 

He's too much like the boy Louis first met. The 17 year old with too much charm and too little awareness. The boy so lacking the confidence that Louis possessed.

 

"I don't blame him. But I don't want to talk to you Harry," Louis says firmly, looking around him to indicate his disinterest.

 

"I wanted to give you a chance to explain," Harry says.

 

Louis' eyes shoot back to his face, rage boiling in his blood, heating his skin.

 

"Me? Explain?" Louis' voice is as tight and as taut as a rubber band stretched too tightly. One ready to snap at any given moment.

 

"Zayn gave me something," Harry says, ducking his head shyly, flushing a brilliant shade of crimson.

 

As usual Louis’ curiosity gets the better of him.

 

"Zayn gave you something? You spoke to Zayn?"

 

Louis tries not to feel betrayed. He knew the two had formed a bond and he should have known better than to think it would be broken simply because of him. He doesn't have any right to tell Zayn who to be friends with but...it just hurts that Zayn hadn't told him the truth.

 

"He gave me this," Harry says in a rush, pulling a tattered black journal from beneath the table.

 

Louis freezes as he recognises the name scratched into the bottom right hand corner, the slightly bent corner and the lyrics scribbled across the front cover. It's his journal. His song writing journal to be exact. His song writing journal that contains everything he's written since he’d admitted to himself that he'd fallen for Harry. Harry who's clearly in love with Ben. Harry who thinks he's no better than a male prostitute.

 

"He had no right.”

 

Louis’ tone is severe, unforgiving.

 

“Is it true? You wrote all these….about me?”

 

Harry’s voice is rasping desperately, his eyes search Louis’ but Louis refuses to give an inch. He refuses to be bullied into giving away his own emotions. Harry hasn’t earned the truth.

 

“It’s none of your business,” Louis snaps, snatching the journal from Harry’s hands, “and it’s none of Zayn’s either. He shouldn’t be going through my things.”

 

“He’s just trying to help,” Harry argues, “trying to get us to talk to each other. And it is my business if this is the way you feel. Is this the way you feel Louis?”

 

Louis can feel his nostrils flaring at Harry’s audacity, his steely blue eyes sending out sparks of anger intended to ignite.

 

“You don’t get to ask me that. I don’t want to talk to you,” he repeats coldly, making to move away from the table but Harry wraps a hand around his wrist, tugging to keep him there.

 

“Louis, this isn’t a game,” he seethes, “I can’t read your mind….and these songs…these songs make me think that maybe I was wr-“

 

“Wrong?” Louis fills in, fuming, “about what? About the way I feel about you?…or maybe you were wrong to say what you did? Or maybe it was me who was wrong. When I decided to let you into my life, when I let you fuck everything up.”

 

“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?” Harry sighs, releasing his grasp on Louis’ wrist.

 

“Just leave me alone Harry,” he says quietly, lowering his eyes away from the other boy’s.

 

It’s now that Louis flees. Forgets about pride, arrogance and any sense of triumph he might have had over Harry. This whole interaction has already done enough damage to his façade as it is and he needs to get out. Now. So he flees and doesn’t look back. Doesn’t give himself time to regret a thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story is actually finished, just undergoing editing so never fear, I'm still here...if you care...like at all :P  
> please comment whatever your heart desires :)   
> Thanks to K.K for her help x


	13. Chapter 13

Zayn: _When are you coming back? Li misses you. I certainly don’t but for the sake of my boyfriend, get your bloody miserable bubble butt back to London. Twat._

Louis grins down at his phone, tapping out a quick reply before pushing his key into the lock and twisting.

 

Louis: ** _I told you. When my uni break ends. Just need some time to breathe. Be sure to tell Liam that I miss him too and that I think it’s cute that he can’t say it outright. Also, be sure to tell him that I have one of his leather jackets and that he should use less product in his hair ;) Twat._**

****

Louis’ still congratulating himself on his own unique brand of wit when a small beast hurls itself at his leg, frightening a very manly and not at all high pitched squeak out of his mouth.

 

“What the hell?” Louis cries aloud into the silence, staring down at the tiny blonde Labrador with dark, droopy eyes and a loose red and white striped bow around its neck.

 

The puppy can’t be more than a month old and when Louis scoops it up in his hands, it yelps pitifully. He brings the struggling, yappy pup up to his face, examining it closely.

 

“Who are you, little fella? Are you mum’s new friend?” He asks it, not even bothering to talk like anything other than a first time dad.

 

It seems like there’s no one to hear him after all…which is strange given he swore his mum said she wasn’t working today.

 

“Mum?” He calls out to her now, placing the puppy back on the floor much to the little thing’s despair, “Mum are you home?”

 

Louis makes his way into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks. There sitting at the kitchen bench...is Harry. Reading the paper, no less.

 

“Oh Louis,” Harry greets him, his head popping out from behind the paper, “you’re here. Finally. I didn’t expect you to take so long at the gym. I mean it wasn’t as long as Liam from what I hear but it explains why-“

 

“Harry,” Louis snaps loudly, snatching the paper out of Harry’s hands and throwing it down onto the bench, “what the fuck?!”

 

“Hello to you too,” the boy says dryly, as if he has all the right in the world to be here.

 

Louis just crosses his arms and waits, tapping his foot against the floor impatiently. Harry rolls his eyes.

 

“Okay, okay I’ll explain. I stole your mum’s number out of Zayn’s phone after he refused to tell me when you were coming back and you denied my messages. I texted Jay, basically told her everything and she said I could come down here and knock some sense into you. Let me in this morning right after you left. Then she took the twins over to your grandma’s house.”

 

“Knock some sense into me? Are you kidding me right now?” Louis’ voice sounds like pipes squealing but he can’t help it, he feels like the whole world’s gone mad, “And what the fuck is with the puppy?”

 

“I’ll explain, I swear,” Harry says hurriedly, pushing his hands out in a placating gesture, “just let me talk. Hear me out. Please.”

 

Louis stares at him for a moment, measuring the weight of apology in his eyes. He looks too good to be true in his black denim vest, loose white shirt and dark jeans. It leads Louis’ to think that maybe he should have just listened to the voice inside him that told him not to go near Harry in the first place. So he turns on his heel, marches down the hall and back toward the doorway. Harry of course, reaches out and grabs his wrist before he makes it, slamming the door closed just as quickly as Louis opens it.

 

He turns around, with murder in his eyes but Harry’s not intimidated. Harry forces him up against the wall beside the doorway, his own breathing erratic as he stares Louis down.

 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asks with more bravado and more steely eyed confidence than Louis’ ever seen on his face.

 

This time there will be no fleeing. There’s no escaping the challenge in Harry’s eyes. It’s face him…or nothing. There is no other alternative. So he slides his own arrogant mask on.

 

“Don’t swear Harold. It doesn’t look good on you,” he says in a hushed voice.

 

Harry draws even closer, if possible, his green eyes turning lethal as they stare right into Louis’ and cut straight through his bullshit.

 

“And avoidance doesn’t look good on you,” he retorts.

 

His arms slide down the wall from where they’d been resting above Louis’ head, gripping his biceps.

 

“Louis,” he says, his composure evaporating as a hint of desperation leaks through, “I’m not letting you run away this time. I’m not letting you avoid this. I need the truth.”

 

Harry searches his eyes, waiting for him to waver and Louis can feel his lip quivering just a little in response, his muscles jumping under the other boy’s touch.

 

“The truth,” Louis weighs the words in his mouth before throwing them back at Harry with venom, “the truth is…I hate you.”

 

Harry’s hands drop the instant the words are out but Louis doesn’t let the sudden loss consume him. He ducks away from Harry, pulling the door open once more…but again his efforts are thwarted and this time with considerably more force. The slamming of the door is loud in the empty house and Louis hears a quiet yelp that must have come from the living room.

 

“Fine, I’ll start,” Harry says through gritted teeth before throwing his arms out in a hopeless gesture, “I broke up with Ben.”

 

Louis’ stomach drops and before he can think to stop himself, his arms are around Harry, his head reaching up to hook over his shoulder.

 

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, his heart jack rabbiting at the feel of Harry’s hand finding the small of his back.

 

Harry pulls back from the hug, frustration clear on his face. He reaches up and grabs Louis’ chin, tracing the line of his jaw with his thumb.

 

“Is that all? Is that all you feel?”

 

He sounds so lost and bereaved and it burns in Louis’ veins. The walls he’d carefully constructed are tumbling down all over again as he reaches up and catches Harry’s hand, running his own thumb over Harry’s trembling fingers.

 

“What do you want me to say?”

 

He lets the words slip out, looking up into Harry’s eyes with a plea of his own. Don’t hurt me all over again, his eyes scream. Don’t make me show you how much it burns when you look at me like that. Harry stares down at his shoes, pulling his hand from Louis’ with a small, solemn shake of his curly head. His voice is utterly dejected and burnt out when he replies.

 

“I want you to say I never should have been with him to begin with.”

 

Louis’ heart feels like it’s being forced to beat. Like his life is hanging by a thread and someone’s beating his chest just to force his heart to pump blood again. Like maybe someone’s shocking him with a defibrillator, his heart straining towards the source of energy before dropping back into his cold, lifeless body, his brain slowly being deprived of oxygenated blood.

 

“Harry, what are you doing here? What is this about?”

 

Louis feels defeated. So tired. He just wants Harry to destroy him and be done with it.

 

“I’m sorry…for everything. I’m sorry I followed you around when that’s not what you wanted. I’m sorry I ever went home with Ben. And I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t respect you, like I didn’t think too highly of you. Because I do.” His voice is like flint against steel now, two seconds away from bursting into flames.

 

Louis pushes him away with firm hands pressed against his stomach as his own insides quiver.

 

“Really?” His voice is tiny, “Because you sounded pretty sure of yourself.”

 

Harry’s hands form manacles around his wrists, his thumbs stroking Louis’ palms as if he just can’t fight the instinct to touch; to destroy.

 

“Louis, I’m so sorry. God, I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t say it enough,” He rasps, “I never…I never thought that of you. I just said it because I thought you were playing me and I wanted to hurt you right back. I didn’t want you to know how much I wanted to believe in what you were singing. Lou, I could never say that about you and mean it. You’re brilliant, you’re beautiful. You’re so much more than the boys that you’ve slept with. I,” Harry gulps, “I love you.”

 

Harry’s hands are still around his wrists, his green eyes bursting at the seams with tears about to spill. He looks all different kinds of desperate. He’s too pale, too anxious and much too dependent on whatever Louis’ about to say. And Louis; Louis feels like someone just ran a boulder over the top of his chest. Because Harry felt hurt and it made him vicious…and maybe it really was just a mistake, a misunderstanding. Maybe this boy, this boy that he never wanted to ruin, who ended up ruining him, is actually in love with him.

 

“Harry,” he breathes, “let me go.”

 

The tears start to overflow and Harry shakes his head violently, defiantly even.

 

“What? No Louis, I won’t. I won’t let you go. I love you. Please,” his voice breaks as the tears spill down his pale cheeks and slip over the curve of his chin.

 

Louis can’t help himself. It’s ridiculous. He lets out a short chuckle. He regrets it instantly as Harry’s mouth twists into a grimace, his eyes darkening with betrayal.

 

“Oh no, Harry,” Louis says swiftly, “I’m sorry…it’s just. I didn’t mean that. I meant….can you let me,” Louis jiggles his wrists in Harry’s iron tight clasp, “go.”

 

Harry’s head tilts a little, his eyebrow furrowing before his eyes go wide with acknowledgement and his hands fall away like two chains breaking in half. The relief on his face is beautiful to watch. Now Louis steps forward and presses his body all along Harry’s, reaching up to cup his cheeks as he watches the other boy swallow, his Adam’s apple jumping. Even that small frog in his throat is beautiful. Fuck. Louis is still head over heels.

 

“Harry,” he sighs, dragging his thumbs along Harry’s cheeks to wipe away his tears, “what am I going to do with you? You’re ridiculous.”

 

Harry’s chin juts out defensively and Louis absently wonders if Harry learned it from him.

 

“I don’t need your pity,” he says sullenly.

 

Louis’ heart constricts at the vulnerable look in those eyes. How had he forgotten what this was like? To have someone’s attention fully on him. Yet that’s not it. It’s not just anybody’s penetrating gaze, it’s Harry’s. It’s the flecks of blue among that endless green sea that do stupid things to his heartbeat and tie his stomach up in knots.

 

“Pity Harold?” Louis cocks an eyebrow, “You think I’m the type to pity people? I don’t pity anybody. Well…maybe your mother, she does have a clumsy, daft little thing for a son after all.”

 

Harry’s hand smacks his upper arm lightly but his lips are quirking upward now and Louis can already feel the tension both loosening and mounting in the best way possible.

 

“I don’t pity you love. I pity all the lads who will never, ever get to touch you,” Louis says firmly, his blue eyes glowing with promise.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Harry looks too hesitant to believe. No wonder. They’ve been back and forth too many times.

 

“Well, I’ll never be like Zayn because Zayn’s an absolute ass to anybody who looks Liam’s way. But then again, I’ve never been with anyone like this before. I can’t say what I will and won’t do. However,” he pauses, his lips curving into a secretive, intimate smile, “if you say yes…if we do this, I promise that you will never even _think_ to look at another boy so long as I’m around. And I do intend to be around…for a very long time, if you’ll have me.”

 

“Of course I’ll god damn have you,” Harry groans before gripping Louis’ upper arms tight and pulling him close.

 

“Well aren’t we a sacrilegious-“

 

Harry shuts him up by forcing his lips down upon Louis’ and he doesn’t protest. Harry pulls away after a moment, uncertainty in the tense set of his mouth but Louis chases his lips, gripping the back of Harry’s shirt and pulling him tighter against his own body. His other hand is buried in Harry’s hair, pulling lightly, combing through the ends as Harry lets out needy little noises. It spurs Louis on and he licks along the seal of Harry’s mouth, begging for entrance and getting it almost immediately as Harry parts his lips. Their tongues leap forward and meet, sliding along each other in what Louis can only describe as a sensory overload. He twitches in his pants, straining for more.

 

Harry breaks the kiss and Louis is tempted to pull him back but he’s suddenly preoccupied with the look in Harry’s eyes. It’s overwhelming. Harry looks at him like he holds all the answers and not just to the mystery of the missing tape end. He looks at Louis the way nobody ever has before, like just by being his peculiar sarcastic and defensive self, he’s done something incredible. It’s like Harry sees the contradiction; the way he’s fifty kinds of fucked up but at the same time, holding on so tight to his own ability to change.

 

“That was one hell of a kiss,” Harry sighs, winking at Louis.

 

Louis’ laughter bubbles to his lips like molten gold as he thinks back to the first time Harry uttered those words; the very first time they kissed. He should have known Harry was spreading through his veins even then.

 

“I want you,” He says in a low, rough voice, leaving Harry with no illusions as to what he’s talking about.

 

“Take me then,” Harry replies in kind, “I’m yours.”

 

Louis turns them around and backs Harry up against the wall, taking his mouth without hesitation. Harry grips the edges of his thighs, hoisting him up around his waist as their mouths brush over and over, sending tingles all over Louis’ body as if his tongue has a direct line to the sensory receptors in every other part of his body.

 

“Say it,” Louis pants between kisses, “again,” another brush of their lips, “please.”

 

“I’m yours,” Harry whispers, his eyes locked with Louis’.

 

Louis moans into Harry’s mouth, bucking against him a little to get some friction. When Harry tears his mouth away, Louis whines low in his throat much like a needy pup and this apparently amuses Harry as he pulls the back of his palm down Louis’ cheek, his cheeks dimpling with his smile.

 

“I think we need to take this to your room. Now,” Harry says, eyeing the staircase with greed.

 

It’s enough for Louis. He slides down Harry’s body to the ground and grabs his hand, tugging him towards the stairs. Yet before he can even take one step up, Harry is pushing his shoulders back against the wall and unbuttoning his shirt. Louis eyes him hungrily as he kneels before Louis and presses a sweet, wet kiss against his stomach, dragging his mouth around the bottom of Louis’ belly button. But it’s not enough. Louis needs him naked now.

 

So he pulls the younger boy up by the neckline of his shirt and slips his vest and shirt off, not even caring that his mum might come home to a trail of their clothes. Knowing her, she’ll get halfway through telling him off before laughing and throwing her arms around him in a congratulatory hug. Harry is unbuttoning his own pants now, pulling the zip down with heated eyes…right, Louis castigates, no thinking about his mother or anything else for that matter in this moment. Not with a soon to be naked Harry Styles before him.

 

Harry in just his briefs is the kind of image that Calvin Klein models strive for. His muscles ripple tantalizingly as he pulls Louis further up the stairs and his ass is so pert and perfect that Louis finds it hard to drag his eyes away when they finally reach the top of the stairs. Harry, completely oblivious, turns around and violently rips his trousers down, his green eyes the size of saucers as he wraps an arm around Louis’ naked waist and then reaches down and cups him briefly. Louis yelps.

 

“Harry,” he pleads, clearly pained, “if we don’t relocate to the bedroom right now, I’m going to take you right here. Please.”

 

Harry looks startled but is clearly on board with the plan as he releases his grip on Louis’ buldge and pulls him along to the bedroom. Pushing him down onto his bed once they’re inside, Harry straddles him immediately. Louis likes the confident, determined expression on Harry’s face, the fire that flows through from his eyes to his fingertips as he runs his hands across Louis’ abs and then up to his chest.

 

“Did I mention how fit you are?” He sighs, leaning down to nibble at Louis’ upper lip.

 

Louis’ smiles into Harry’s mouth.

 

“Not today you haven’t.”

 

Harry chuckles and Louis uses the opportunity to push his own agenda, raising himself up and nibbling on the patch of skin just below Harry’s ear. He lets his mouth open and close over the area, breathing hot against Harry’s skin. Swiping his tongue across from the point behind Harry’s ear to the base of his neck, he sucks the tender skin into his mouth for a moment as Harry’s breath hitches in his ear.

 

“I might be fit,” Louis admits before grabbing Harry’s jaw and looking the boy over with wonder, “but you’re fucking beautiful Harry.”

 

Harry truly does look like a fallen angel like this. He’s leaning over Louis with perfect, chocolate curls framing his face and soft green eyes working over Louis’ own features. The rosy hues of his cheeks and the puffiness of his lips show the signs of his debauched state, his body so chiseled and defined that Louis has a hard time believing Harry hasn’t been approached with a modeling contract.

 

Louis reverses their positions now, leaning over Harry with a wicked gleam in his eye.

 

“What are you planning?” Harry says warily.

 

Louis doesn’t answer, just presses a tender kiss to Harry’s mouth before dragging his own down Harry’s jaw, all the way to his chest. Harry reaches out to grab a fistful of his hair as Louis sucks his nipple into his mouth, rolling it around his tongue.

 

“Louis,” Harry pleads with tightly closed eyes and eyelashes that jitter.

 

So Louis releases his nipple only to grip his hips, his thumbs brushing over Harry’s hipbones as he trails wet, lingering kisses down Harry’s torso. Harry twists and turns a little and Louis pushes indents into his hipbones to punish him. Once Louis reaches Harry’s briefs, he draws back, simply looking…but he knows the power of a look. He lets his tongue dart out to wet his lips and Harry groans at this.

 

Now he finally lowers himself back down to Harry’s body, parting his legs so he can rest in between them. He grips Harry’s thighs tightly now as he skims his nose down Harry’s snail trail, blowing a soft puff of air along the sensitive skin.

 

“Shit,” Harry swears softly as Louis ghosts his hand across Harry’s clothed cock before squeezing just slightly, whilst sucking the skin around his hip into his mouth.

                       

Yet when Louis begins to peel Harry’s underwear away, he freezes, his eyes darting nervously away from Louis.’

 “Harry,” Louis calls him softly but Harry’s turned his face into the pillow and refuses to look his way, “Harry love, what’s wrong? Do you not want to do this?”

 

“No,” Harry sighs, looking back at him and Louis’ heart constricts, “no, it’s not that. I want you. I just…I’m nervous.”

 

Louis breathes a sigh of relief before gathering Harry’s face in his hands.

 

“Babe, why are you nervous? It’s just little old me. It’s not as if you-“

 

Louis pauses, measuring the response in Harry’s eyes because suddenly the hesitance makes sense. The oversensitivity and the neediness is sparkling with new found clarity.

 

“You haven’t done this before…” Louis trails off uncertainly, not sure whether he’s really asking.

 

Yet Harry answers anyway, shaking his head beneath Louis’ and sucking his bottom lip into his mouth with fear. His eyes shoot up to Louis,’ just waiting for the attack.

 

“You didn’t….you didn’t have sex with Ben?”

 

He can feel the shock rearranging his own features.

 

“No. I lied,” Harry says quietly.

 

“Why? When were you going to tell me Harry? After I took the one thing you can never get back? For fuck’s sake, Harry!”

 

Louis’ heaves out a frustrated sigh and flops down on the bed beside Harry. Harry pushes up onto one arm, looking down at him with such fear flickering in his eyes that Louis can’t help but reach up and press his thumb into one of the more prominent worry lines, rubbing it tenderly and smoothing away the line.

 

“I’m sorry Lou,” Harry sounds hopeless, “I just didn’t want you to think I was still that pathetic schoolboy virgin. Pathetic because I made up this whole damn thing. Ben isn’t even real.”

 

Louis’ face scrunches with confusion.

 

“Of course he’s real Harry. What the fuck are you on about?” He demands, trying to understand the reluctance in Harry’s expression.

 

“It was Zayn’s idea,” Harry sighs, dropping back down to lie flat, “he told me that you’d never see me as anything more than a schoolboy if I didn’t show you that I thought more of myself. He said and I quote ‘Lou seems like more trouble than he’s worth sometimes but you just gotta turn his head slowly. You keep forcing him to look your way, he’ll turn away just to spite you…but if you move his head inch by inch, he doesn’t notice until he’s staring right at whatever you want him to see.’”

 

Louis voice is stuck in his throat. He’s not sure if he wants to challenge Zayn to a duel or thank him for knowing how he operates better than he knows himself. Yet everything is still disconnected and disjointed as he tries to comprehend what happened.

 

“You and Ben…you weren’t…”

 

“Together?” Harry fills in, “No. We weren’t. It was a three pronged plan.”

 

Louis’ tempted to laugh at the familiar term but he holds back for now.

 

“Hmm really?” He asks, a smile at the ready, “and what did that involve?”

 

“First, the makeover. I’d wanted a tat for ages but Zayn convinced me. Told me the rest of your…turn ons too,” Louis turns to study Harry’s expression and finds him flushing adorably, “so I did all that I could…to be what you wanted. It felt right to dress this way, to wear my confidence on my sleeve. To talk to you without feeling like some annoying child. Next, the song. Zayn found out I could sing and well, he said it might impress you. I guess I understand better now why he thought that.”

 

“Go on,” Louis prompts, giving nothing away.

 

“And then there was Ben.”

 

“Right,” Louis voice is tight at the mention of Harry’s ex.

 

“Nothing was ever going to happen. Zayn said to find something I could offer the guy. So when I went home with Ben that night, we were kissing a bit,” Louis tries and fails not to cringe when Harry glances at him to gauge his reaction, “cause I was a bit buzzed. Then I remembered…the plan…and that he mentioned something about his niece and how she kept pestering him to teach her how to use her new, super sophisticated, super expensive camera. So I-“

 

“You asked him to be your fake boyfriend and in return, you would teach his niece to be a fancy photographer like you? With your black and white Instagram and your off center polaroids?”

 

Louis’ grin is pulling the corners of his mouth outward and he feels as though there must be happiness glittering prominently in his eyes because…Ben was nothing. Ben was only ever

about him. Harry is his now. _“I’m yours.”_ Louis’ fairly certain he won’t forget the look in Harry’s eyes as he uttered those words any time soon, perhaps ever.

 

“You’re teasing me,” Harry concludes grumpily.

 

Louis rolls over onto his side and reaches out to snag an arm around Harry’s chest, pulling him close and burying his head in Harry’s neck.

 

“You weren’t the only one given a three pronged plan,” Louis says against Harry’s neck, hoping to avoid eye contact.

 

Yet Harry grabs the back of his hair, forcing his head back. Louis figures he might as well get it over with.

 

“Stage one, show you my softer side….by taking you home with me. Stage two…..sing you one of the songs I wrote and stage three….well we never got there in the end but stage three, tell you the truth.”

 

Harry looks him over for a moment then touches his lips against Louis’ briefly and smiles against them with closed eyes before pulling away.

 

“I’m sorry I was such an oblivious idiot and screwed up your plan,” he whispers.

 

Louis chuckles, warmth radiating out of his chest.

 

“I’m sorry I was such an oblivious idiot who didn’t face my own feelings straight off the bat,” he responds in turn.

 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t just tell you the truth. I knew you were jealous…but I needed you to make a move, to like….pick a team. Our team. I wanted you to show me that it was more than just a case of wanting what you couldn’t have.”

 

Harry smiles sadly now and Louis feels like an ass. He draws his pointer finger across Harry’s lips as he begins to speak.

 

“No Harry, I’m sorry that I never paid you the attention you deserved until you changed before my eyes. It was like…suddenly I couldn’t ignore your beauty or how much I wanted to know you…but you weren’t mine to discover anymore. And I wanted to tell you. I wanted so badly to steal you away…but I also wanted you to be happy. It was like torture and then Zayn convinced me that I needed to prove myself to you and I…I thought it was the best option I had,” Louis reveals with a sad, soft shake of his head.

 

“We were both-“

 

“Idiots,” Louis finishes with a grin, “but idiots who wound up here together.”

 

“You’re the fittest, funniest, best idiot I’ve ever traded spit with.”

 

Louis’ head tilts a little as a loud laugh erupts from his chest. Harry’s face is just so intensely serious as he utters the words “traded spit” in that rather posh way of speaking that he has.

 

“And you’re the curliest, most adorable idiot that I myself have ever snogged,” Louis promises, smiling brilliantly.

 

Harry brushes his nose against Louis’ in an eskimo kiss and Louis reaches up to cup his face.

 

“Snogging is pretty nice isn’t it?” Harry says with a twinkle in his eye.

 

“It is indeed.”

 

They both smile intimately at each other before their mouths meet again, pressing insistently at each other before opening to allow more. It’s a few minutes of quiet, lazy kissing before Harry’s hand finds his ass, squeezing tightly.

 

“Want you,” he pleads.

 

“Harry,” Louis breathes against Harry’s forehead, pressing his lips against his temple briefly, “I need you to be sure.”

 

Harry’s hand suddenly, without any warning, darts down the front of his briefs and grips him tightly. Louis gasps in response.

 

“I’m sure.”

 

Louis hands shoot out to rip away Harry’s underwear at the same time as Harry’s reach out to remove his. They laugh into each other’s mouths, the humor slowly ebbing away as their kisses become clumsier, less restrained and they each remove their own underwear to avoid the hassle.

 

“I want to make you feel good,” Louis says with lowered eyelids and a heavy gaze.

 

He turns harry onto his back and then slides down the bed to lay with his head between Harry’s legs, just gazing intensely once more. Harry is a big boy in more ways than one and Louis can’t wait any longer. He reaches out and slides his fist down Harry’s shaft, squeezing tight at the very end. Harry’s breaths are shallow and jagged like bits of shattered glass. Louis takes this as a good sign.

 

He keeps his fist wrapped tightly around the base but moves to sit on Harry’s thighs, opening his legs in a V shape so that his own cock presses up against Harry’s. He releases his grip now, only to clasp them both in one hand, bringing his fist up both of their cocks in a slow movement that allows him to grip tightly, as if forcing the last remnants of toothpaste from the tube. Harry’s breath stutters when Louis releases himself in order to rub his thumb back and forth over the slit at the head of Harry’s penis. He teases Harry for a few moments, delighted at the way Harry’s thighs jump and twitch beneath him.

 

Louis slides back a little now so he can bend over, bowing his back as he places a placating hand on Harry’s stomach and takes him down the whole way in his mouth, his nose brushing against the skin around the base of Harry’s cock. Harry’s whole body bends as he thrusts up just enough to make Louis’ eyes water but not enough to make him gag.

 

“Shit, Louis. Shit, Louis,” Harry chants, winding his fingers through Louis hair as he pulls back a little, gliding up and down over Harry’s cock and feeling his own dick twitch when Harry’s head falls back, a low moan falling from his mouth.

 

Louis lets Harry go with a loud pop only to clasp the base again and drag his tongue all the way up Harry’s shaft, letting his mouth close over just the head and swiping his tongue across the drop of pre-come gathered there. Louis pulls his mouth away, ignoring Harry’s frustrated groan as he slides back up Harry’s legs again, pressing them together before gathering his own semi-hard on and Harry’s cock dripping with pre-come in his hand. He flicks his wrist quickly as he spreads Harry’s pre-come over his own cock and jerks them both off quickly, panting in time with Harry.

 

“Oh my god Lou.” Harry sits up abruptly and stills his hand, “if you keep touching me like that, I’m going to come. You’re incredible…but please …stop.”

 

Louis just grins and then leans forward to join his lips with Harry’s, his own cock throbbing as Harry sucks on his tongue.

 

“The next part is a bit tricky. Are you sure you’re okay?” Louis asks now, reaching over Harry to pull the lube and a condom from his top drawer.

 

Harry eyes them nervously but his smile doesn’t falter when he reaches up to trail his fingers down Louis’ cheek.

 

“I want this. I want you,” he says assuredly.

 

“Well babe, I need you to scoot down a bit and spread your legs.”

 

Harry looks a little unsure and off kilter. So Louis just grabs his hips and drags him. He runs his hands up Harry’s legs from the inside of his knees to the very tops of his thighs and watches the goose pimples appear as he slowly pushes Harry’s legs outward. He squirts some lube onto his hands before arching over Harry to kiss him quick and chaste.

 

“This is going to hurt a little,” he says, giving Harry’s hand a quick squeeze before ducking down in between his legs once more, “but I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

 

Harry tenses as Louis inserts the tip of his finger but relaxes a little after that. Louis stills his finger inside Harry once it’s completely in.

 

“Is this okay?” He asks, concern touching his blue eyes.

 

Harry’s hips cant up just slightly, pushing Louis’ finger in at a different angle and his eyebrows fly up in response.

 

“It’s….interesting. Very different. But not bad different.”

 

Louis huffs. This is his challenge.

 

“Let’s get you to good different babe.”

 

He pushes a second finger in, more swiftly this time trying not to worry about Harry’s sharp intake of breath. He holds Harry’s eyes, burning holes in his sockets as he flexes his fingers in different directions, one arching towards Harry’s entrance and the other just barely flicking his prostate but Harry goes rigid, his toes curling into the bed as his eyes flicker closed.

 

“Look at me, Harry,” Louis says softly.

 

Harry opens his eyes but his whole body is quivering as Louis pushes his fingers in deeper.

 

“Are you trying to kill me?” He gasps now.

 

Louis trills a laugh.

 

“No but you’re about to beg for mercy,” he responds with a devilish grin.

 

He grabs hold of Harry’s cock now and at the same time as he squeezes the base, he bends the fingers that lie inside Harry around his prostate and massages tightly.   

“Holy shit,” Harry breathes, his eyes wide.

 

His mouth goes a little slack when Louis pulls his fingers back before quickly grabbing hold of his dick and squeezing tighter this time. It’s only when Louis feels Harry dripping more pre-come onto his fist that he pulls his fingers out. Harry’s staring at him with disbelief.

 

“That was…that was…” He tries and Louis finds it quite gratifying that he’s lost for words.

 

“It gets better,” he promises with a wink, eyeing his own cock.

 

“Are you…” Harry’s eyes widen as he leans up on his forearms to get a look, “are you hard from that?”

 

Louis’ not ashamed, not with Harry eyeing his cock like it’s the most beautiful piece of artwork he’s seen that doesn’t belong to Zayn. He just shrugs, smiling dazedly.

 

“I like to watch,” he admits.

 

“I can see that,” Harry breathes, eyes filled with wonder as they trail back up to Louis’ face.

 

Louis grabs the condom and rips it open with his teeth but just as he prepares to slide it over himself, Harry’s hand covers his own.

 

“Let me,” he says quietly, almost shy.

 

It’s adorable really.

 

“Yes…please. I mean…thank you,” Louis stutters.

 

Apparently he’s not as chilled out as he thought. Harry slides the condom over his length, his lips pushing upward with amusement now.

 

“You’re cute when you lose your cool,” Harry observes, lying back down against the pillow.

 

Louis leans over his vulnerable form and then grasps himself in his hand, pushing forward into Harry’s hole. He inches forward ever so slowly, Harry’s fingers digging into his shoulder, before finally bottoming out. When he looks up at Harry, his eyes are wide.

 

“Do not call me cute,” Louis grits out, staring deep into Harry’s eyes as he stills his hips, resisting the urge to move.

 

“Yes sir,” Harry whispers, trying for sarcasm despite the slightly unfocused look in his green eyes, “just move already.”

 

However, he’s utterly careless with his pretty little mouth, unknowingly using one of Louis’ turn ons against him and Louis is powerless to stop it when his hips cant forward, causing Harry to gasp. Louis stills, removing his hand from its place near Harry’s head to reach out and touch his jaw.

 

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He says, panic creeping into his tone.

 

Harry shakes his head vigorously and then wraps his legs around Louis body, drawing him in deeper, his heels pressed hard against the backs of Louis’ thighs. It creates a muted throbbing pain but Harry’s eagerness is like fuel to the fire burning inside Louis’ cock as he draws back slightly before plunging deep into Harry’s tight hole.

 

“Harry,” he groans, “you feel,” slightly embarrassing pant, “so good.”

 

Harry beams at this…or at least tries to but Louis can no longer deal with these slow, jarring movements and begins to rock deeply into Harry at a pace even his best sexual partners would have to admire. Harry’s smile dissipates, animalistic lust replacing the expression as he hooks his arms around Louis neck and stares deep into his eyes. Louis grabs Harry’s cock now, ghosting his hand so fast over the bulging organ that Harry’s breaths begin to hitch like desperate sobs.

 

“Louis,” he says, his voice choked, “’m not going to last long. I’m sorry.”

 

Louis just picks up the pace, pushing the curls off Harry’s forehead and letting his eyes fall closed as he focuses on the way Harry’s hole seems to squeeze him, the loud groans and quieter pants slipping from Harry’s lips and the repeated chorus of “fuck, Harry” that has begun to fall from his own mouth.

 

When Louis’ feels the tendons in his thighs tightening and those familiar sparks of electricity that run from the tip of his cock right up to the center of his brain, he knows he’s close. He rubs his thumb across the slit of Harry’s cock a few times but it’s not enough because then Harry shifts his hips slightly, changing their angle and the sensation is too much for Louis. He comes instantly, his hips continuing to rock into Harry as he shudders.

 

He clenches his eyes shut tightly as Harry slides himself along his length, causing aftershock after aftershock to ripple through his body. Finally, he pushes Harry back down and with no warning, leans down while still inside him, although quickly softening, and deep throats him. He waits until he feels Harry touch the back of his throat before he widens his mouth momentarily before closing tight on Harry’s dick again. Harry rewards him by coming straight down his throat, his hand locked in Louis’ hair. Louis swallows every last drop before pulling off…and pulling out, tying up the soggy condom before disposing of it in the rubbish bin beside his bed.

 

When he looks back at Harry, the boy’s eyes have drifted closed and there’s the ghost of a contented smile on his face.

 

“That was one hell of a first time,” he says, those damn irresistible dimples showing up as he smiles amusedly at his own wit.

 

Louis lies down next to him, snagging an arm around his waist and pushing his head against his chest.

           

“You’re a dork,” he says, turning his face just to press his mouth against Harry’s skin.

 

Harry’s eyes slide open now to regard him softly.

 

“Your dork,” he corrects.

 

Louis kind of wants to kiss him. So he does.

 

“My dork,” he sighs, nipping at Harry’s lips again before settling down.

 

They both start to drift off, Louis pulling the covers over them but they’re startled when something rather heavy leaps onto the end of the bed. They both shoot up at the same time. When Louis spies the puppy, he giggles into his open palm. Harry shoots him a fond look in response, watching him closely as always. The puppy lopes over the bed towards them and settles itself down in Louis lap who reaches out to stroke him…or her, automatically.

 

“So what is this Harold? You never did explain,” Louis reminds him, smiling down at the Labrador.

 

“That is called a puppy Louis. It’s rather like a small-“

 

Louis punches his shoulder. Harry chuckles.

 

“His name is Larry. He’s yours,” Harry announces, reaching out to stroke Larry’s ear.

 

“Larry?” Louis asks, with a skeptical look, “that doesn’t seem like a very good name for a puppy.”

 

“His name is Larry Stylinson. It’s our names…together,” Harry looks down at the covers now, kneading them between his fingers, “I thought it was cute.”

 

Larry curls up at the end of the bed now and Louis’ left to ponder Harry’s romantic gesture. Larry Stylinson. It’s ridiculous. It’s sappy. Louis won’t submit to it but when he grabs Harry’s hands, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles, he feels the crinkles spreading around his eyes as he smiles.

 

“You’re cute,” Louis allows, “….and Larry it is.”

 

Harry perks up at this.

 

“You didn’t have to buy me a puppy though just because I bought you a kitten.”

 

Harry’s eyes light up for no reason that Louis can decipher until he opens his mouth.

 

“Babe, are you kitten me right meow? Course I did.”

 

Harry’s grin is so wide that Louis assumes it must be taking up half the space in the room. Oh god, he thinks, what have I gotten myself into? Harry is a head case…and yet all Louis wants to do is make him happy.

 

“You, my pretty little clown, are so embarrassing. You’re never meeting my friends,” Louis assures him, his eyes glinting with amusement as he winks at Harry.

 

“Too late,” Harry quips, turning Louis’ hand over in his and kissing the center of his palm, “you’re stuck with me now.”

 

Louis giggles at the ticklish feeling of Harry’s lips on his palm and Harry tilts his head, his gaze full of adoration before he brings Louis’ hand to his lips once more and blows a loud raspberry onto his skin. Louis’ laughter is loud and uncontrolled like a child’s and when Harry dives onto him, tickling him mercilessly, the laughter transforms from breathy giggles to squeals and tears of mirth.

 

“Harry, please,” he begs between giggles, “I beg you.”

 

Harry finally releases him, bopping him on the nose with his finger.

 

“You’re just so darn cute.”

 

“Manly. I think you mean manly,” Louis corrects, his eyes falling closed as Harry pulls him into his side.

Harry’s lips are in his hair when he talks and the sensation is so comforting, so soothing….that Louis doesn’t fight it when sleep takes him.

“Sorry love. Of course. My manly, fit boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully eases some of the tension! and for you angst lovers, sorry for the reprieve :P  
> Thanks Kymby xo  
> Leave comments pls. My birthday is in two days and comments would make nice gifts :D (that sounds so lame, I know.)


	14. Chapter 14

When Louis awakens, he finds two alert green eyes roving over his face, a reverent kind of smile touching Harry's lips. Louis slings his limp arm over Harry's naked waist, trying and failing in his drowsy state to pull Harry closer but Harry gets the message anyway. He scoots forward, bringing his palm up to Louis' cheek to pull their mouths together.

 

"What time is it?" Louis whispers against his jaw, squeezing his side gently.

 

"Time for round two?" Harry asks with a raised eyebrow.

 

Louis chuckles quietly.

 

"Maybe when I'm actually awake sunshine. Can't do my best work like this," he says fluttering his eyelashes.

 

Harry skims the tip of his finger along them, forcing Louis' eyes closed as he slowly brushes across his eyelids.

 

"Mm, well in that case, it's 7 o'clock...7 pm," Harry clarifies, "you've been asleep awhile."

 

Louis' eyes flicker open at the soft note in Harry's tone.

 

"When did you wake up?"

 

"About an hour ago," Harry murmurs.

 

Louis presses his lips against Harry's until Harry opens up and their mouths meet once more in mutual pleasure.

 

"You should have woken me," Louis sighs.

 

"I didn't want to," Harry pouts, "I like laying here with you. I like watching you sleep."

 

"Not creepy at all," Louis teases even as his heart squeezes inside his chest.

 

"Mm," Harry smiles, his dimples ever present, "you just keep pretending you don't find me adorable."

 

"I will," Louis agrees, "you and your dimples," he reaches up to poke one, causing it to deepen, "are nothing special."

 

"What about this?"

 

Harry catches Louis' hand in his and brings it down between them, forcing Louis to cup him and feel the semi-hardness of his cock.

 

"Is this special?"

 

"Harry!" Louis squeaks, composure lost, "how are you hard right now? I haven't even touched you."

 

Harry's eyes are like lightning bolts sending shots of electricity through Louis' veins and down to his nether regions.

 

"Just like looking at you I guess. Was just thinking about you touching me. Your mouth on me," Harry explains in rough tones, shrugging slightly against the mattress.

 

So oblivious about what he’s doing to Louis. Louis grasps his shoulder tightly and pulls the boy toward him in a forceful kiss.

 

"You're unbelievable," He says reverentially, "and I mean that literally."

 

"Want to shower with me?" Harry asks now, his eyes all aglow.

 

"I do believe that's the best idea you've had yet, Mr. Styles."

 

Louis winks at him provocatively.

 

Harry pushes the covers off and then stands before him in all his naked glory, looking stunning with his messed up curls, swollen lips and rising erection. He holds out a hand to Louis, his lips twitching like they've a mind of their own as he raises an eyebrow.

"Well Mr. Tomlinson, what are you waiting for? I'd be delighted if you'd accompany me," he says, scaling up the posh accent.

Louis doesn't even laugh, too preoccupied with staring at the Picasso like masterpiece before him. He leaps up eagerly now, his hand landing in Harry's as he jumps off the bed. Harry tugs him against his body and they laugh into each other's necks as their mounting erections bump against each other.

 

Holding hands and giggling like two children, they make their way towards the bathroom, stopping only to kiss or tug cruelly at each other’s dicks every few seconds. Though they both come to an abrupt stop when a loud peal of laughter floats up the staircase.

 

"You know he thinks he can do everything on his own. I tell you it's a bloody wonder he even comes home," Jay complains as the other person laughs along.

 

Harry and Louis are just around the corner, stood stock still against the wall next to the bathroom. Their bodies curl around each other, Louis holding his palm tightly over Harry's mouth to prevent him from making any noise. Harry licks his hand like the child he is.

 

"Is that your mother?" Louis hisses.

 

Harry's eyes are wide and alarmed. He nods jerkily, hitting his head against the wall and frowning slightly in response. Louis shakes his head but reaches up to rub the tender spot.

 

Jay and Anne choose that moment to round the corner and squeal dramatically at the sight before them. Louis covers Harry's body with his own because well, he'd much rather his mum glimpse something she's seen before than cop an eyeful of Harry. Harry is his to look at and his only. The two women turn away now and then abruptly burst into loud laughter, bending over as they wheeze and huff with amusement. Louis rolls his eyes.

 

"We'll give you two five minutes to get dressed," Jay warns slinging an arm around Anne's waist.

 

"And no stopovers or delays," Anne chimes in, causing her and Jay to collapse into another immature fit of giggles.

 

"We want new parents!" Louis calls after them as they make their way back downstairs.

 

"Ones who have a mental age of more than five!" Harry adds.

 

Louis squeezes his hip to let him know he approves and then they run back to his room and begin to hurriedly dress. Louis gives Harry clothes to wear seeing as his were discarded on their journey to the bedroom. He can't help but smile proudly at the way Harry looks in his grey university jumper which appears to fit him perfectly despite being two sizes too large for Louis himself. The dark tracksuit pants that barely glide past his ankles only add to the effect.

 

"Come here you," he murmurs, grabbing the front of Harry's jumper to pull him near.

 

Harry licks into his mouth quite ferociously for an instant before pulling away. Louis makes a frustrated noise low in his throat.

 

"Parents. Downstairs. Remember?"

 

Harry's lips quirk with amusement as he reminds Louis.

 

"I'll do the deed if you stash the bodies," Louis offers with a hint of a smile.

 

"Deal."

 

Harry touches his lips to Louis' briefly and Louis groans, tugging on his sleeve.

 

"C'mon then boy wonder. Let's get the inquisition out of the way. That way I can I can take you home. To London. To bed," Louis promises.

 

Harry chuckles and then grabs his hand, dragging him down the stairs basically against his will.

 

.....

 

It takes a bit of explaining but finally both mums appear to be appeased, at least in that they finally know what's going on. Well kind of.

 

"So you two are...together now?" Anne says, directing her question Louis' way.

 

Harry sighs disgruntled, beside him. Louis squeezes his fingers to let him know he doesn't mind but Harry intervenes anyway.

 

"We haven't exactly discussed that yet," he says, aggravated.

 

"But we intend to," Louis rushes to say as Anne's eyes flicker with anxiety.

 

"So you took him to bed before you discussed what you are to each other? Louis I raised you better than that!" Jay scolds, looking appropriately disappointed.

 

Louis feels his heart and head sinking. That is until Harry's fingers find the edges of his face, pulling his head up so that their eyes meet in an intimate conversation.

 

"It's okay," he says quietly, "I don't need anything else but you right now."

 

Louis nods but he knows it's not on. He's got plans for Harry, and this time he won't be misinterpreted. When Harry tugs gently on his bottom lip with his own, Louis' eyes close instinctually, molding himself to Harry's mouth. After a few moments of gentle kissing, Anne coughs exaggeratedly and Louis comes back to earth. Right, mothers in the room. No indecent snogging allowed. Even if Harry's looking at him like he'd like to ruin him or rather, be ruined upon the kitchen bench.

 

"You're adorable," Jay squeaks, sounding embarrassingly emotional.

 

"I agree," Anne clucks, "get over here Louis and let me give my future son in law a kiss."

 

Louis' tension fades as he breaks into a winning smile, crossing the room and tucking himself into Anne's embrace even as Harry flushes at the endearment.

 

"No tongue," Harry says threateningly as Anne leans forward to kiss Louis’ cheek.

 

"Who are you warning? Your mother or me?"

 

"Both!" Harry cries out exasperated as the three other people in the room all shake with laughter.

 

"Poor Harry," Jay exclaims, "c'mon cutie, we'll show 'em how it's done."

 

Harry's cheeks lift as his mouth curves gently and Jay wraps her arms tight around him. Louis pulls back from Anne a little to glare at them both.

 

"Same goes for you. No inappropriate touching...mother, I mostly mean you," Louis says with an arched eyebrow.

 

Harry grins as Jay throws back her head and cackles.

 

"He does look quite fetching in a fedora."

 

Jay winks at him and Louis cries out with outrage at the same time as Anne.

 

"Mum!"

 

"Jay!"

 

There's more laughter and then Anne pulls Louis close again by the sleeve of his jumper, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

 

"I knew you'd get him back. I knew he was in love with you...even if he didn't want to be. Look after him Louis."

 

Louis doesn't respond, just lets the deep promise in his blue, blue eyes shine through as he meets her gaze. She smiles and nods, barely perceptible but when Louis turns away, Harry is watching them both with a quizzical expression.

 

"Are you going to explain to me how you got here?" Harry asks suddenly, raising his eyebrows at his mother.

 

To her credit, she doesn't flinch or startle, just serves him up a high and mighty look of her own before shrugging delicately.

 

"Your friends were very helpful...Ziam that is," she adds, looking self-satisfied.

 

Harry just sighs and shakes his head at her. There's more familial bonding and the telling of embarrassing stories that make both Harry and Louis cringe and blush, glancing at each other to gauge reactions.

 

It's an hour later as they make their way back to London, the dark sky blurring past their windows, when Louis takes one of his hands off the steering wheel and reaches over to clutch Harry’s hand. Harry sends him a soft, private smile in return and lays their intertwined fingers along his thigh.

 

"You're very affectionate for somebody who seemed so against this no more than a few months ago," Harry mouths aloud.

 

Louis' teeth break his lips as he looks down at their joined hands, his thumb trailing up Harry's forefinger without much thought.

 

"Long legged, charming brunettes will do that to you," He teases, turning his head a fraction to wink at Harry, "trust me, I would know."

 

"Oh, who's this long legged, charming brunette that you speak of? Should I be worried...jealous?" Harry asks, amusement slipping into his voice.

 

Louis chortles, enjoying this sickly sweet game more than he ever thought he would. He’s pathetic.

 

"Well I dunno..." Louis glances at Harry now, feeling slightly breathless, "I thought I'd ask him to be my boyfriend...but ah, who knows what he'll say. He might not even-"

 

"Louis, are you asking me to be with you? Like for real?!"

 

Harry's tone is one of disbelief and Louis can feel his gaze burning holes in the side of his face as he focuses intently on the road, trying not to worry about what Harry might say.

 

"That depends on your answer. If you hate the idea, then of course I wasn't asking you cocky asshole."

 

Harry's thumb is pressing into the curve of his own now and he tugs on Louis' hand until Louis finally lets his eyes meet Harry's. He finds tenderness and pure unrestrained joy. Harry is sunshine and Louis is walking on him....or something.

 

"And if I don't hate the idea?" Harry says, so quietly that Louis almost misses it.

 

"Then," Louis lets out a deep breath, "then I'd like you to be my boyfriend Haz. I'd like to know," Louis swallows, the emotion overwhelming him slightly, "that whenever somebody flirts with you, you'll say that you’re taken…by me. That whenever somebody looks at you a little too closely, someone will whisper in his ear, "he's with Louis." I'd like to be able to introduce you as my very sexy, very fuckable, very unavailable to anyone but me, boyfriend. I'd like to be the one who gets to take you home and make love to you when every other person in the room wants a piece of you."

 

"Louis," Harry murmurs, sounding charmed, enchanted even, "Louis, you're so beautiful like this. So open and unafraid. I love you. Be mine."

 

"Harry," Louis scolds, completely exasperated, "I asked you first."

 

"I asked you second."

 

Harry's voice chimes with amusement at his own joke.

 

Louis can't take this anymore. He veers off to the side of the road, coming to an abrupt halt.

 

"Louis what the-"

 

But Louis' already got his seatbelt off and is up and over the gear stick, straddling Harry and kissing him urgently. Harry pants against his lips as they break away.

 

"Harry Edward Styles, I’m going to ask you one more time, and then I'm never going to ask you again. Will you or will you not be my fucking boyfriend?"

 

He huffs, holding Harry's eyes within his own.

 

Harry draws his thumb and forefinger across his chin, pretending to consider the proposition. Louis rolls his eyes, leaning back on Harry's thighs and almost toppling over. Harry grips his thighs to stop him falling and then lets his smile soften, his gaze intensifying.

 

"I will. Yes,” the look in his eye turns mischievous now, “a thousand times yes."

 

The theatrical tone makes Louis both a little proud and a lot frustrated.

 

"Harry, don't be sarcastic," he says, eyes squinting and a crinkled smile crossing his face even as he shakes his head to discourage the boy.

 

Harry sees the fondness though and giggles at the way Louis fights it, attempting to control his smile. It's annoyingly adorable. Except it's not. Because why should Louis be annoyed when Harry is truly his now? Why should he be irritated by Harry's utter irresistible nature when he no longer has to resist him? Suffice to say, the rest of the drive home is utter bliss.

 

....

 

"Neither of your plans worked the way you thought they would," Louis says as soon as Zayn opens the door.

 

"And your meddling has got to stop," Harry continues.

 

They might have rehearsed it a little. Blame the actor in Louis. Zayn looks between them, his eyes flying down to note their conjoined hands.

 

"You're blaming me...for the fact that this," Zayn gestures between them, "didn't happen sooner?"

 

"Precisely," Louis confirms.

 

Harry nods along.

 

"Unbelievable. You two are fucking idiots. If it weren't for my

'meddling,' " he says, forming quotation marks with his hands in the air, "Louis would have never stopped to smell the roses, and Harry probably would have thought you didn't give a shit. So assholes, prepare your apologies before you come back. Good day!"

 

Zayn slams the door shut and they turn to face each other, their eyebrows up around their hairlines.

 

"Are we assholes?" Harry asks, looking hurt.

 

They've been home one night and Louis already feels so beholden to Harry and his emotions. He reaches out and runs his hand through Harry’s curls.

 

"Yes dear," Louis replies, "but it's okay, you flash your dimples, “I'll sleep with him again and-"

 

Harry growls, glaring at Louis as he pounds on Zayn and Liam's door.

 

"I told you last night-"

 

"Yeah, yeah," Louis complains, "no talking about sleeping with my attractive best friends. However I don't think it's fair that people impose all these rules on me. I do so love to see your eyes flash with jealousy."

 

Harry huffs indignantly just as Zayn pulls the door open once more, crossing his arms expectantly.

 

"Something you'd like to say lads?"

 

"We're sorry," Harry says solemnly, "we are assholes."

 

Zayn nods. Louis decides to take the moral high ground...

 

"I'll buy you two packs of ciggies and a pint."

 

"Deal. You're forgiven."

 

Zayn and Louis grin manically at each other while Harry rolls his eyes. Louis just reaches for the nape of Harry's neck and pulls him into a swoon-worthy kiss. Harry chases his lips when he pulls away and Louis tousles his hair teasingly.

 

"Don't try to understand Zaynie and I babe. You'll hurt your little brain."

 

"Little?" Harry enquires angrily.

 

"Upstairs…. little," Louis explains cheekily tapping Harry's head with a wink before running his hand down to squeeze Harry's cock, "downstairs...not so much."

 

"Get a room!" Zayn yells suddenly.

 

They both turn to him with indecently happy smiles on their faces and he eventually gives in, rolling his eyes before pulling them both into a hug. It’s not like he’s got a leg to stand on anyway.

 

"So happy for you," he says, his voice rough, in a rare show of affection.

 

After that, they stumble through the door with him and are subject to a tight hug from Liam whose eyes are squinted so tightly with happiness, Louis wonders if his pupils may have been squeezed out.

 

They're sitting on the couch chatting when Harry starts bobbing excitedly like the toddler he is.

 

"We should watch a movie!" He chirps.

 

Louis can't help the fond smile that overtakes his face as he stills Harry's thigh with his hand.

 

"Why not?"

 

"I actually have an idea of something we could watch...."

 

Louis' too busy smiling softly at Harry to note the dangerous edge in Zayn's voice. When Zayn returns, Liam bursts into loud laughter and Harry's eyes pop. When Louis whirls in Zayn's direction, his jaw goes slack with shock.

 

"No way. No. I can't believe you still have it. It's mine!" Louis argues.

 

"Louis: Grease the Musical," Zayn reads, grinning from ear to ear, "ah, when I came across this in that box of yours....it was like all my dreams coming true at once."

 

Liam chuckles while Louis throws a cushion at Zayn's head that he dodges just barely.

 

"You were in a musical?" Harry asks, his tone one of disbelief, as he pulls Louis' neck around to force him to look his way, "you?"

 

"Yes...but that's all you need to know. We're not going to watch it."

 

Harry pouts.

 

"Oh yes we are," Zayn protests, leaping in front of the television and sliding the tape in quicker than Louis' seen Zayn do almost anything....except maybe finish his drink and push Liam out the pub when he's feel particularly turned on.

 

Louis just sighs resigned. Liam's eyes are lit up and Harry's too. It's three against one.

 

Harry giggles continuously throughout and Louis finds he prefers to watch his boyfriend instead of his younger self on screen. There's a soft glow on Harry's face every time he looks Louis' way, his fingers constantly squeezing his own. When Harry leans into his side halfway through, Louis wraps an arm around him and pulls him tighter still.

 

"Is it wrong if I say you were a fit kid?" Harry whispers.

 

"I was only one year younger than you are now....so, no it's not wrong. Plus, I never get sick of hearing it," Louis whispers back, an incandescent smile painting his lips.

 

"I love the way you smile at me. I love that I have such a bloody fit boyfriend,” Harry breathes against his neck, planting a gentle kiss below his ear.

 

The words are on the edge of Louis' lips, the ones he's yet to say but it's not right. Not here, not like this. He wants it to be perfect for Harry. He wants to be the kind of guy that does obscenely romantic things for once. So he just presses his lips against Harry's, the unspoken words hopefully apparent in his eyes.

 

…..

 

Much to his displeasure, Harry turns the radio off halfway through their drive back to Louis' flat (Harry's yet to go home) and starts singing you're the one that I want at the top of his lungs. Stupid boyfriend. Yet Harry has an amazing voice and he looks beautiful, with the wind whipping through his hair due to the top being down. The night sky which has just begun to darken flies past behind him, his green eyes reflecting the light which is just beginning to stream down from the street lights. He throws his arms out every now and then in dramatic gestures, crooning the words as he leans in close and disarms Louis with that dimpled, toothy smile. Eventually, Louis finds himself singing along to what is by far, one of his favourite songs after all.

 

Streaming down his street singing like two lunatics and laughing as a few neighbours send them outraged looks, Louis feels so free. It's incredibly freeing just to realise that being with Harry means never limiting any one part of who he is, or even who he's been in the past. Harry accepts all of it, wants to see all of it, even the shameful parts. Even the cracked and broken pieces are beautiful to the boy who has so much hope and optimism that it puts Louis to shame.

 

It terrifies Louis to feel like this, to feel like he's constantly running towards Harry, that he no longer needs to escape. But at the same time it’s also invigorating and enthralling. He's the most alive he's ever been when he tugs Harry from the car and into his locked arms, laughing at the startled expression on his face as he runs his fingers through his curls, kissing down the nape of his neck just because he can. Harry is perhaps Louis' kryptonite, his Achilles heel, but the sad truth is he'd rather die by Harry's hand than live without him at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the extended absence but I promise I'm always still here! Hopefully you are too. Please leave feedback, I appreciate it all dearly. It gives me further inspiration to write. Thanks to KK again especially this time for editing after she's just had a massive weekend and has exams coming up! x   
> In case you'd like to chat further, tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lovehoperomance


	15. Chapter 15

"Lou, are you sure about this?" Zayn's voice is a question and a half worth of uncertainty as he gives the entire setup a sceptical look.  
  
Louis glares at him, forcing down the panic in his chest that agrees entirely with his concerned best mate.  
  
"Of course. I have many skills that you've never witnessed," Louis argues, pressing his hands into his hips as he stares Zayn down.  
  
That's when Liam joins the fray, striding into the kitchen and not even bothering to control his look of horror. Subtle as a gun, that one.  
  
" _This_ is what you're doing for Harry?" Liam asks, incredulous as Zayn tugs him into his side.  
  
Liam's looking more like Zayn's creation than himself today donned in a thick black jacket, a matching t-shirt and equally dark jeans that are tighter than anything he's worn before. He and Zayn blend quite seamlessly together in their dark tones, the only difference being the looks on their faces. Liam's solely focused on the catastrophe waiting to happen before him while Zayn's rather preoccupied with studying his boyfriend's attire. Liam is perhaps oblivious to the glint of excitement in Zayn’s eye and the way his hand is groping over his hip. Louis however, is not. Eugh.  
  
"Doesn't anybody have _any_ faith in me?!" He cries out now, throwing his arms up in a helpless gesture before scooping up the cut-out from the magazine off the stainless steel bench.  
  
"It's a recipe!" He declares unnecessarily, waving it in their faces as they fail to bat his hand away, "you know...one of those things that tells you what to do. I can do this! All I have to do is follow the rules."  
  
Liam and Zayn gaze steadily at him for a moment before collapsing on each other's shoulders, loud laughter erupting from their chests.  
  
"Oh fuck the both of you," Louis says, flipping them the bird before pausing to tap his bottom lip, "oh wait...I already have."  
  
They both set menacing eyes upon his form and he backs up into the corner of the bench, not liking the predatory twist to Zayn's curled mouth.  
  
"Should we?" Liam says, his lips quivering with amusement now as he tilts his head in Zayn's direction.  
  
Zayn only has to nod once, the same humour reflected in his and Liam scoops the measuring jug off the counter obediently. Louis opens his mouth to protest but it's too late. Zayn grips Liam's hand on the jug, lifting it up and spilling its contents over Louis' head.  
  
Milk drips down his freshly cleaned and styled hair, easing off the spiked ends and onto the floor. His face feels cold and sticky and okay, maybe he deserved it but still! This is his first date with Harry. His first real one anyway. The night that Louis wants to make perfect just to show that he can. So he can prove that he's not a total noob when it comes to romance.  
  
"I'm going to kill you Malik," he threatens, leaning toward the boy.  
  
However Liam cuts him off, pulling Zayn behind him in a protective stance. Zayn grins triumphantly at Louis from behind his shoulder, his dark eyes alight with joy.  
  
"You broke the rule. It was only fair," Liam reminds him with a meaningful look.  
  
Louis shakes his head.  
  
"I wasn't aware that we agreed that ruining my date with Harry would be the punishment," he notes dryly, rolling his eyes but leaning back into a more relaxed stance anyway.  
  
"You mess with me and my boyfriend, I'll mess with you and yours," Zayn vows.  
  
Liam pets his arm.  
  
"What he means is," Liam clarifies and Louis waits for the slightly nicer, less threatening warning, "shut your dirty mouth Tommo."  
  
Louis' mouth falls open and Zayn's eyes explode. Liam's lips stretch wide, his teeth pressed together in an obscene grin. It’s a heartbeat later that Louis dissolves into laughter, pressing his hand against his mouth as his eyes crease with mirth.

 

“You’re staring at me,” Liam mumbles to Zayn as the dark haired boy walks around to face him, gripping his cheeks between his hands.

 

“It’s like a Disney princess gone bad. You’re like Miley Cyrus,” Zayn says, wonder in his tone even as Liam’s nose wrinkles with disgust, “…except way sexier…and mine.”

 

“What are you on about Z?” Louis chimes in, followed by a chuckle.

 

He’s not expecting the venomous look that Zayn throws his way.

 

“Shut it. I’m trying to say something,” he growls.

 

Louis throws up his hands in a defensive gesture and then rolls his eyes when Zayn turns back to Liam who reaches up to wind his fingers through one of Zayn’s hands, bringing it down between them.

 

“You were saying…” Liam prompts.

 

“Right,” Zayn says, sounding unusually gruff, “So um, this was meant to be a bit more planned out but I, I can’t resist. I want this now.”

 

Louis exchanges the look of annoyance for a brilliant smile as he notes the tendons standing out on Zayn’s neck and the look of awe on Liam’s face. He’s rather good at predicting these things and he sees immediately where this is headed.

 

“Want what?” He says, obviously captivated by Zayn’s gaze.

 

“You,” Zayn whispers, sliding down onto one knee, his hand still wrapped in Liam’s, “I want you forever.”

 

Liam swallows noisily, his eyes so wide in his face that it’d be comical if it weren’t so touching. Even Louis can admit that the moment unfolding before him is undeniably sweet. He doesn’t regret bearing witness to this at all.

 

“Are you saying…?” Liam tries to ask, sounding choked.

 

Zayn squeezes his fingers to halt his speech.

 

“I’m saying. I’m trying to say,” there’s a long, loud breath through his nose, “Liam Payne, will you marry me?”

 

Liam stares at him dumbstruck for a moment before his eyes catch Louis’ whose expression screams “get your fucking act together” and he finally reacts, his eyes falling on Zayn.

 

“I was meant to ask you!” He squeaks.

 

“Oh Liam,” Louis groans, pressing a hand to his forehead as he shakes his head.

 

“Oh Liam indeed,” Zayn agrees grumpily, still on bended knee, “Is that all you have to say?”

 

Liam looks instantly contrite, his eyes widening as he slides down onto the floor in front of Zayn, abruptly grabbing his face and planting one hell of a kiss on his lips.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Zayn pulls away with a gasp.

 

“Yes,” Liam breathes, smiling almost shyly now as Zayn clutches him to his body and buries his head in his shoulder.

 

“I don’t have a ring,” he says apologetically.

 

“Don’t be silly. I don’t care about the ring. This is…this is the best day of my life,” Liam utters the words quietly but the emotion leaks through.

 

Foot in mouth syndrome. Louis can’t help himself.

 

“Best day of your life? How ridiculous. I’m pretty sure the best day of your life was the day you slept with me.”

 

He’s not sure why he’s grinning even as the two boys rise to their feet and turn vengeful looks his way.

 

“One more word about my fiancée Tomlinson and I’ll tousle Harry’s-“

 

“I’m sorry!” Louis says embarrassingly quickly, “just don’t…don’t touch his hair. He likes it too much.”

 

Zayn smiles an annoyingly arrogant smile, turning to meet Liam’s eyes and the two smile intimately at each other as Zayn touches his lips to Liam’s one more time. Louis surprises them both when he throws himself around them, squeezing them tight.

 

“I’m incredibly happy for you both,” he says against Liam’s neck where his mouth rests.

 

When Louis draws back, they both have soft expressions on their faces as they regard him.

 

“Louis is that,” Zayn pauses, a finger hooked around his chin in a contemplative gesture, as he smirks openly “are those tears steaming up your eyes?”

 

Come to think of it, his eyes do seem rather prickly but no. Louis does not cry for silly, sappy proposals. He’s never been that guy and he never will be. Blowjobs. Blowjobs in the shower. Blowjobs in the shower with Harry. He projects each fantasy onto the cinema in his head, refusing to be moved by Ziam, effectively clogging his brain up with arousal.

 

“Shut it Malik,” he hits out, serving Zayn up a look of cold malice.

 

“Harry’s turned him into a right old sap,” Zayn chuckles, squeezing Liam beside him.

 

Liam smirks a little before reaching out and grabbing Louis’ shoulder.

 

“He’s right….but we can pretend it’s not true if you’d like?”

 

Louis gives him a long look.

 

“Anyway, are you going to tell us what the hell you’re making? I couldn’t very well read the writing shoved in my face before,” Liam says, crossing his arms.

 

“It’s chicken,” Louis presents his flat hand to indicate the meat, “wrapped in parma ham,” he rolls his hand around in the air, “stuffed with,” he violently thrusts his hand forward, “mozzarella cheese with some homemade mash.”

 

Liam looks amused by the way Louis gesticulates with his hands, indicating each item.

 

“Stuffed,” he repeats, grinning amusedly as he imitates Louis’ hand action.

 

“Yes stuffed Liam,” Louis says, sounding slightly miffed, “that’s what Jamie Oliver said.”

 

Zayn barks out a sharp laugh at this.

 

“Something the matter Z?”

 

“Nope,” Zayn says between guffaws, “just wonder what the old Louis would say if he could see you now.”

 

Liam chuckles along with him.

 

“He’d say, ‘you look really hot in that dark green jacket that’s much too big for you,’” a voice says in Louis’ ear as two long, gangly arms wind around his waist, a soft mess of curls pushing itself against the hollow of his shoulder before a chaste kiss lands on the edge of his cheek.

 

“Harry,” he says, quite embarrassingly breathless, “you’re early.”

 

Harry releases him only to turn him around so they face each other. For the love of god. Louis’ heart is a jack hammer in his chest.

 

“And _you_ have butter on your cheek,” Harry says, fondness colouring his tone as he reaches forward and swipes it away, “what on earth have you been doing?”

 

“Figuring out the best way to kill you,” Zayn answers for him.

 

“Being crazy romantic,” Liam says at the same time.

 

Louis’ not sure either is untrue but at the same time, he’d rather not own up to either statement.

 

“Which is it?” Harry asks, his lips twisting with amusement as he studies Louis’ face.

 

“I was cooking. For you. That’s why I wanted you to come over. Except I’m not even nearly done and I look awful, thanks to Zayn and you look good enough to eat as usual,” Louis grumbles.

 

Louis tugs on the dark shirt that’s decorated with these ridiculous hot pink hearts. Yet somehow it just doesn’t look ridiculous on Harry Styles. He was made for patterns, prints and all things eccentric. The top is paired with black jeans that are purposely ripped at the knees and shape his legs perfectly as usual. The whole getup makes him the perfect combination of eccentric and just plain sexy. Yet here Louis stands in an oversized jacket, worn grey singlet and baggy pants.

 

“Are you cross with me for looking good?” Harry asks, grabbing Louis’ neck possessively and tracing a thumb down his jaw, “Because if I were to work off the same rules as you do, I’d never stop being cross with you.”

 

“You two are disgusting,” Zayn complains.

 

“Says the newly engaged-“

 

“Newly engaged?!” Harry shrieks, turning to glare at the happy couple and pulling Louis along with him, “wasn’t anybody going to tell me?”

 

“Lou just did,” Zayn says with an evil grin.

Harry snorts but it belies his actions as he throws himself at Zayn who struggles to catch him, the two staggering backwards as Harry grips the dark haired, dark eyed boy.

 

“I’m so excited,” Harry gushes, “We have to go and pick out your tux and find a place for the wedding and I think you guys should definitely get married at that big garden where we had lunch that one time under that massive sprawling tree. It was beautiful, don’t you remember? Oh and I know someone…well actually my mum knows someone. She’s a wedding planner. Mum calls her The Sass Queen but she’s a gem. Kymberly. I’ll give her your number. Or give you the company’s number. It’s called um…oh yeah, Miss Plum’s Marriage Consultancy-“

 

Zayn looks absolutely horrified as he covers Harry’s mouth with his hand. Louis’ just smiling slightly whimsically at the overexcited child that slightly resembles his boyfriend. His enthusiasm is merely charming.

 

“Harry,” Zayn interrupts, pulling his hand away after a moment, “we just got engaged!”

 

“So?”

 

Harry’s eyebrows furrow with confusion. It makes Louis’ laughter spill out between his teeth and Harry glances at him, a smile forming on his puckered mouth even if he doesn’t understand the reason for Louis’ amusement.

 

“So,” Liam intercedes, “we might need a little bit of time to just deal with that before we start planning the wedding.”

 

“Oh.”  


Harry pouts now and Louis doesn’t move of his own volition. He just seems to no longer be in control of himself when it comes to Harry. His hand is tangled in Harry’s curly mop, pulling his head back slightly before he can even think twice about it.

 

“I’ll help you plan babe. Then we can show them all your ideas when they’re ready,” Louis promises without thought, leaning down to meet Harry’s mouth in a Spiderman type of kiss as Harry arches his back.

 

“That’s our cue!” Zayn calls as Louis’ lips slide over Harry’s, his tongue darting out to trace every line of his lips.

 

Harry and Louis break away from each other, both slightly flushed but Louis doesn’t mind all that much. He forces the newly engaged couple out the door fairly quickly after that.

 

“You,” Harry says quietly, pushing him back against the door now, “you’re very dirty. You’ve got something in your hair.”

 

“That would be milk.”

 

Harry raises an eyebrow.

 

“Zayn.”

 

Harry doesn’t even ask what lead to the attack, just seems to understand Louis well enough to know it was provoked.

 

“In any case, I think you need a shower. And ah…I think you might need some help in there,” Harry suggests, biting his lip nervously as if he still expects Louis to reject him.

 

As if Louis could ever not want Harry’s hands on him. His body feels cold without them there.

 

“C’mon sunshine,” Louis trills, grabbing Harry’s hand and dragging him toward the bathroom, “need you to give me a proper cleanse.”

 

The shower ends up being rather sweet and peaceful rather than the steamy shower sex scene, Louis had imagined. That isn’t to say it isn’t arousing too but it’s so much more. They undress each other slowly in the cold bathroom, Louis’ hands drifting down Harry’s buttons and running over the smooth planes of his chest as the shirt falls away. They hold each other’s eyes as Harry slips his jacket off, running his hands across Louis’ bare shoulders tenderly. Then he pulls Louis’ singlet over his head, gazing at his upper body for a beat too long before moving to his pants.

 

When they make it into the shower, they kiss lazily for a while, Harry’s hands falling down Louis’ body to cup his bum as he presses them both against the shower wall. Louis’ hands rove up and down Harry’s body, warming any of the skin not covered by the hot water streaming down over them and squeezing at certain intervals. He hums under his breath when Harry squirts some shampoo into his hand and begins massaging it through his hair. It’s just…nice. That’s what it is. His eyes flutter shut of their own accord and stay that way as Harry tilts his head, washing away the shampoo, his hands sifting through the ends of his hair to get the last of it out.

 

“You have beautiful hair,” Harry sighs, the sound echoing around the shower.

 

“Harry, don’t even,” Louis responds, eyes still closed as he reaches up and runs his hand through Harry’s wet curls to emphasise his point.

 

Harry just purrs at his touch. Who’s an adorable little kitty now? Louis thinks absently.

 

Harry’s hands are in his hair again now as their mouths close over each other, tongues pushing and pulling for all their worth. He shivers as Harry pulls his hand across his neck, down his lower back before reaching his ass once more and pants a little his mouth as Harry’s hand slides up between his cheeks, parting them softly. Then his thumb trails back down along the seam of Louis’ ass, stopping briefly to dance around his hole and Louis is surprised to find himself arching upward, holding his breath and waiting for Harry to press into him. Yet Harry pulls his hand away and Louis’ left with aching want settling in his chest. It definitely leaves him with something to think about.

 

When they finally make it outside of the bathroom, towels tied around their waists, Louis is shocked to find his apartment filled with acrid smoke.  
  
"Fuck! The chicken! I forgot about everything," he swears, running into the kitchen and swearing once more upon finding the smoke streaming out of the oven.  
  
Harry's wide eyed and silent as Louis pulls the blackened mess from the oven and attempts to wave away the billowing smoke that fills his lungs and makes him cough. His hand finds the small of Louis’ back, rubbing soothingly as he coughs.  
  
"Are you okay Lou?" Harry asks as Louis turns back to him, seeing the deep concern darkening his eyes.  
  
"No," Louis says brokenly, hanging his head in shame, "I ruined everything."  
  
Harry's hands cup his cheeks now, forcing his head upward.  
  
"No you didn't. I'm the one who distracted you. It's my fault. I'll fix it. You just go get dressed," Harry assures him, his eyes holding Louis' tight with the conviction within them.  
  
"No,” he whines, “this is my mess. I just wanted it to be perfect and now it's a fucking disaster zone and it's not fair to you. It's up to me to-"  
  
Harry halts his words with a finger to his lips.  
  
"It's enough that you thought to even do this for me. To try. That's all that matters. Let me take care of it, please. Thank you," he whispers, gently kissing Louis, "thank you for this. I love you. Now let me fix it."  
  
Louis debates arguing, his mouth quivering with the effort of holding his protests back but Harry's look is so sweet, his eyes so tender that of course, Louis finds himself unable to say no.  
  
"Okay," he agrees, his body bowing with defeat.  
  
"You're cute when you do what I say."  
  
Harry's eyes twinkle teasingly.  
  
"I really wish you'd stop calling me cute," Louis says defiantly, a pout pushing his lips out into a bow shape.  
  
Harry tugs on the bottom one, looking charmed.  
  
"But maybe if I did, you'd stop pouting at me so adorably," he contends with smiling lips.  
  
"Oh Harry," Louis sighs, shaking his head at the boy.  
  
"Just go," Harry shoos him, pushing him out the kitchen.  
  
Louis pulls on a long sleeved, collared white shirt and some tight grey jeans and spends a considerable amount of time fixing his hair before walking out to find Harry spooning something into bowls at the bench, his towel folded neatly where it rests on the corner of the bench. His skin is just a touch pale, almost creamy and smooth all over. Looking at the small curve of his bum is enough motivation for Louis to let out a low whistle. Harry spins around, startled but then smiles, clearly amused.  
  
"I didn't have time to get changed," he says shrugging, his barely dry curls shaking just slightly, “the towel was a nuisance.”  
  
Louis makes his way across the kitchen and grabs Harry's behind, squeezing roughly. Harry's eyelashes jitter and he rocks on his feet in surprise.  
  
"What a damn shame," Louis replies, his eyes on Harry's cock now.  
  
Harry laughs loudly.  
  
"Stop that! I need to get changed...and it's dinner time!"  
  
Louis raises an eyebrow.  
  
"I thought I destroyed all possibility of dinner."  
  
"Well…almost," Harry grins, "but I managed to salvage what you'd made of the mash. And I looked to see if there was anything in your cupboard. Sooo we're having mash," Harry gestures to the steaming bowls before sliding over to the cupboard and reaching in to pull out the only item in there, "and salt and vinegar chips."  
  
Louis' about to make a sarcastic remark when Harry tugs him close by his belt loop.  
  
"Don't say a word. I think I did pretty well given what I had to work with," he says with twitching lips.  
  
"I could do better with what I have to work with," Louis says in rough tones as he trails his fingertips down Harry's pectorals to his abs, his eyes sparking as he looks up at the boy from beneath his lashes.  
  
Harry catches his wrist, pressing his thumb into Louis' palm.  
  
"You're a menace," he laughs, "and I'm going to get dressed right now."  
  
"Spoilsport," Louis calls after him, laughing delightedly as Harry sways his hips before disappearing into the bathroom to collect his clothes.  
  
A few minutes later, they're sprawled on Louis' couch, Harry's feet in his lap as they snack on chips and mash. It's a whole lot of potato but Louis kind of doesn't mind. The way Harry keeps throwing these smiles that are slightly off centre and slightly too big for his mouth is enough to make the night perfect. They both finish their food and Louis takes the opportunity to crawl down the couch, placing his knees either side of Harry's lap and hovering just above, his gaze searing Harry's skin with intensity.  
  
"Thank you for fixing my mess," he says quietly.  
  
Harry reaches up to cup his jaw, rubbing a thumb across the sharp curve of his cheekbone, a serene smile in his shining green eyes. So Louis cups his face too, measuring the heat within those eyes as he leans forward ever so slowly and just barely touches Harry's lips. However Harry must really be feeling it tonight as he groans, pulling Louis down hard into his lap and deepening the kiss instantly. Louis can taste traces of salt and vinegar on Harry's tongue as they grip each other convulsively, Louis grinding against him and something about it makes him smile into the kiss. Harry is salt and vinegar flavour.  
  
When he pulls back, he lets his fingers flutter over Harry's neck, his smile deepening at the way Harry chases his lips just a little, nipping at them quickly before drawing away.  
  
"You taste like salt and vinegar," Louis remarks with eyes near slanted shut with pleasure.  
  
Harry squeezes his thighs where they rest pressed against his own.  
  
"And you taste like every dirty thought I've had since I met you."  
  
"Oh shit, I corrupted the sweet virgin,” Louis says in an exaggerated whisper.  
  
He reaches out and pinches Harry cheek.  
  
"There's no going back now," Harry leers, running his hands over Louis' legs all the way up to his ass.  
  
"You do have a fantastic ass," he says as an afterthought.  
  
Louis chuckles.  
  
"So I've been told."  
  
Harry's look darkens and his hold tightens beyond measure.  
  
"Lock your legs," he growls.  
  
The intense anger on his face is more than a little arousing and it's funny how Louis knows exactly what he means. As if now that he's given himself over to Harry so completely, he has a direct line to the other boy's brain. So he grips Harry's waist tight with his legs as Harry lifts them both out of the chair.  
  
"Where are we going Harold?" Louis asks with a cheeky smile.  
  
Harry just pulls him tighter against his own body.  
  
"To remind me…and you…that you and your fantastic ass belong to me and only me," he growls again.  
  
It shouldn't be this hot. Louis shouldn't be leaning forward to mouth around Harry's jaw as he carries him into the bedroom but alas, he does exactly that.  
  
"Tad possessive are we?" Louis teases as Harry places him down against the covers, leaning over him now, his eyes stormy.  
  
He rips Louis' shirt open, buttons popping free and Louis can't help but breathe loudly at the savage and animalistic look on his face. It's so god damn hot. His large hands press against the sides of his defined stomach as Harry paws his way up his upper body before leaning down and licking a hot, wet circle around Louis' nipple. Louis jolts a little as Harry bites down on the sensitive spot, breathing hot against the skin before sucking it into his mouth for a moment.  
  
"Fuck Harry," Louis pants, combing his fingers through Harry's curls.  
  
Harry looks up at him now, his eyes clouded with lust.  
  
"I don't want to hear you even joke about people checking out your ass," he says firmly.  
  
Louis' eyes widen as he tries to make sense of the strong willed, sexy creature before him.  
  
"Are we clear?" He demands now.  
  
Louis continues to stare, saying nothing and Harry arches over him, letting his hot breath trail over Louis’ neck as he noses up along the line of his throat, turning Louis’ head with one hand and dragging his mouth across the side of his jaw. Louis' so consumed with the growing ball of tension in his stomach that he doesn't notice Harry's wandering hand until it slips beneath the waistline of his jeans, grasping his cock tightly beneath his underwear. Harry presses his hand tighter against the side of Louis' face, tracing a vein in Louis' throat with his tongue while running his hand over Louis' cock, his thumb circling the slit as he reaches the head. At this point, Louis lets out a squeak.  
  
"Are we clear?" Harry repeats in his ear, only sounding slightly out of breath.  
  
Meanwhile, Louis' a ragged mess and desperate for Harry's touch.  
  
"We're fucking clear. I'll never mention anyone else appreciating my fantastic ass ever again," Louis vows, his eyes holding fast to Harry's.  
  
Harry grins now, the domineering look fading completely from his eyes. Louis reaches up to swipe a thumb across his dimpled cheek.  
  
"You're sexy like that. All controlling and stubborn. I like it babe."  
  
"I like you...babe."  
  
Harry winks at him and Louis giggles...just a little.  
  
Louis pulls Harry down now and into his side, running a hand across his clothed chest.  
  
"About the whole controlling me thing. I thought maybe...maybe we could try that..." Louis trails off uncertainty, burying his head in Harry's chest.  
  
Harry's not having it though. He grabs Louis' face and tilts it upward, inspecting his expression.  
  
"What like....s & m? Ah Lou, I'm not really into-"  
  
"No!" Louis laughs, deep and loud, "me either. I meant....maybe you'd like to....I mean..."  
  
"Louis," Harry says sternly, "what's going on?"  
  
Louis eyes fasten on Harry, who looks awfully concerned but his own stomach is jumping with nerves and he knows it won’t settle. So he just lets the words fly out, his eyes fluttering shut in tandem.  
  
"I want you to fuck me Harry."  
  
Next thing he knows there's a finger tracing his bottom lip. He opens his eyes and finds confusion, perhaps even more concern on Harry’s face.  
  
"Louis....why are you so scared? Is it because...." Harry takes a deep breath, "forgive me if I'm wrong but...have you not...have you not been penetrated since Zach?"  
  
Louis cringes at the cold, clinical sound of the word 'penetrated' but he supposes it fits. A vast array of images catch on the hooks in his mind now, forcing him to confront moments he'd rather forget. Moments where terror seized him and he shook with fear he didn’t want to feel or snapped angrily at anyone who even asked to enter him. He decided long ago he never wanted to be that vulnerable again. Yet as always, Harry is the exception. Harry is his exception to every rule and he wants him in every way, shape and form. Including inside him.  
  
"No," he gulps, "no I haven't. That shit I said...about liking both...about 'at least when I get fucked, I know it's coming'...that's exactly what it was, bullshit."  
  
Harry's eyes fill with tears and Louis reaches out to grip his face, the same way Harry grips his.  
  
"Don't cry for me Harry. Don't cry because I'm listening to every word you told me now. I'm not going to let one bad experience ruin something as incredible as this. I want you inside me," he says, his voice rasping.  
  
Harry still looks pained as his roving green eyes paint Louis' face with intense concern.  
  
"I want to Lou," he says, voice ragged and rough, "I want to be inside you so badly. But I don't want you to open up to me like that unless you really feel ready. I mean....why me? If you were scared all this time, why now? I don't....I've never done it before. I want it to be good for you Louis but what if I'm not....what if I can't..."  
  
Louis hushes him with a desperate kiss, sliding his tongue into Harry's mouth and reaching across to unbutton Harry's shirt, pulling it roughly from his shoulders as Harry's hand massages his neck slightly. It's only when he splays his hands across Harry’s chest that Harry breaks away.  
  
"Louis, we need to talk about this," he pleads.  
  
"Harry," Louis whispers in a feather light tone, "you're ridiculous. You are the exception. I thought I made that clear. I trust you. I trust you to do right by me. I know it'll be good because it's with you and because I-"  
  
Louis voice cuts off in a strangled puff of air as he finally feels the pull in his veins that he's been waiting for. Now is the right time. His heart is leaping like a dancing flame in his chest and his world has narrowed down to the curious jade green eyes before him. Harry's no longer the 17 year old always on his case and it's time he put that to bed once and for all. Harry is his equal...no, that's not right...Harry is his superior. Harry is good, kind and optimistic and possesses the kind of bright qualities that make him the ultimate Disney prince; the curly haired boy with the glowing green eyes and the blushing, dimpled cheeks who enchants all those around him. Yet there's a side to Harry that it seems their both just discovering, a side that's dangerous and strikingly confident but above all strong.  
  
Louis looks into Harry's eyes now and sees the kind of man that Harry will be as he grows. The kind of man that will cry for those who dislike him because he doesn't understand such bitterness. Yet the kind of man who will have sprawling tattoos and who will say fucking whenever the need arises, in that posh tone that makes it sound like "focking." Louis sees the kind of boy you meet only once who falls in love with your baby siblings, who charms your mother to bits and who looks at you like you hold all the secrets to your universe in your very hands. Louis sees the boy that will laugh at him with bright spots of colour filling his eyes and cheeks and who will make it okay for him to be soft and sappy just by being so bloody open and sensitive himself. When he looks at Harry, Louis feels like he's looking at something indecipherably beautiful. Louis could have never understood Harry's unrelenting hope, his unapologetic softness if he had its simply explained to him.  
  
Yet to look at and be with Harry is to for a moment glimpse the smallest portion of his truth. There is a light in Harry's eyes that spreads from his body to the next whenever he's in the room. There's a charisma there that is so subtle but undeniable. Like whisky flowing through your veins, submerging you in warmth and heavy lidded gazes before you even have a chance to second guess anything. Louis will never understand that power Harry has precisely but when he looks into Harry's eyes, he sees the goodness of his whole persona and understands that Harry will always chase misery from those around him. Especially Louis.  
  
"Louis?" Harry questions now, his face all lined with tension, "what's wrong?"  
  
Louis turns completely on his side to face Harry and then presses a firm, unyielding kiss to his lips. He holds Harry's cheek in his palm, smoothing away the worry lines with his thumb, as his blue eyes track Harry's flickering emotions. He smiles now, a secretive smile, the words pooling in the dip of his pursed mouth as his heart beat slows and he finally, finally, lets Zach go completely. He gives Harry everything he's been holding back.  
  
"Nothing. I just fucking love you Harry Styles. I'm in love with your ridiculously gorgeous face and your daddy long legs and the way that you're looking at me now, like I create magic out of nothing," Louis breathes, his entire face stretching wide as he smiles.  
  
"You do?" Harry whispers with awe, his hand reaching down to grasp Louis' hip as he brings their faces together, kissing him tenderly.  
  
"I love you too," he sighs against Louis' lips.  
  
"Prove it," Louis challenges.  
  
Harry's lips curve upward.  
  
"Please. Fuck me," Louis begs, too far gone to even care about the pathetic, desperate edge to his voice, "please Haz."  
  
Harry looks like he's got a frog in his throat as he stares at Louis, all wide eyed and frantic.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You just," Harry pauses, looking hypnotised, "you're begging me. You're actually begging for me. You want it that much?"  
  
Louis voice is cross as he corrects his boyfriend.  
  
"I want _you_ that much."  
  
"Okay," Harry says with a sharp exhale.  
  
"Okay?"  
  
Louis' heart leaps into his throat.  
  
"Let's get this off you," Harry replies simply, tugging at Louis' shirt which is still hanging open.  
  
The offensive item is quickly discarded and it's bare chest against bare chest as Harry rolls them over, pulling Louis on top of him as he traps Louis' lips within his own, tugging them fiercely before letting his tongue dart out to connect with Louis.' The way Harry's hands grip his waist sends shivers of anticipation down his spine.  
  
"Need you," Louis sighs against Harry's mouth, "in my mouth. Now."  
  
Harry's eyes glaze over momentarily before he squeezes Louis' hip.  
  
"Not this time babe."  
  
Louis eyes shoot upward with surprise as this is the first time Harry has ever offered to return the favour. Not that Louis had held it against him. He knew of course that Harry was just innocent and nervous but now it seems everything he knows about Harry is about to change as the boy rips his jeans and underwear away and feasts greedy eyes upon his cock.  
  
"Is it..." Harry's eyes are so dark, burning all the way up Louis’ thighs, through his stomach and chest, "is it pulsing?"  
  
Louis is rather turned on by the mere thought of Harry's mouth on him so he's not surprised.  
  
"Probably."  
  
"God you're hot, so fit," Harry groans, skimming his large hand across Louis stomach before sliding it down his snail trail as Louis gasps quietly at the cool touch that somehow happens to leave a trail of fire behind, in its wake.  
  
When Harry wraps a hand around him, Louis bucks off the bed a little, trying to rub himself off against Harry's hand but Harry just pushes against his stomach, forcing him back down.  
  
"Naughty," he scolds, a devious light sparkling in his eyes.  
  
Louis suddenly feels like he's about to be ruined completely.  
  
When Harry leans down and slides his mouth over the head of Louis' cock, Louis is not prepared. He's had good head. He's had guys with mouths as wide as down pipes suck him deep but it doesn't compare. There's something indecently arousing about seeing the boy you're in love with swallow you whole, constricting his mouth around you even as his eyes water. Like the desperate need to please and the possessive grip on your hips to keep you stationery suddenly means more when you're staring into the eyes of someone who adores you. Louis should have known Harry's thick, fleshy lips would frame his cock so perfectly but he was simply unprepared.  
  
Harry's mouth doesn't just encase him in warm wetness as he slides down right to the base; his lips are so moist with spittle and so puffy that as he glides along, they vibrate against his cock. Louis can't help the small shivers rocking his through his body as Harry continues, sliding back and forth, reaching up to cup and then massage Louis' balls every now and then.  
  
"For fuck's sake Harry," he swears, his eyes rolling a little as Harry's draws back, his tongue slipping lazily around the head, "it's like you fucking took a class."  
  
"I did," Harry's mouth grins around the very tip of his cock, "from you."  
  
Louis lets out a deep laugh that abruptly cuts off as Harry slides back up his body and kisses him roughly. Louis lets his hand gravitate down Harry's body to palm him through his jeans, humming his approval as Harry hooks his fingers beneath both layers and pulls them away, allowing Louis to touch and squeeze freely. Harry's panting into his mouth by the time they finally break apart.  
  
"I need to prep you," Harry says now, looking determined.  
  
"Good boy," Louis patronises, blue eyes reflecting amusement as he tousles Harry's curls, "You _did_ learn something after all."  
  
Harry smacks his hand away with a glare.  
  
"Turn over onto your stomach," he orders, his eyes still flashing.  
  
However it doesn't have the desired effect as his punitive tone just makes heat pool in Louis' stomach as he considers the fact that he's about to be as vulnerable as he's been in a long time. He's not scared though. He's actually chomping at the bit. He wriggles eagerly onto his front, holding his breath as he hears Harry reach into his top drawer and listens to the squirt of the lube.  
  
"Louis, are you sure? Are you sure that I'm-that you trust me?" Harry says now.  
  
"I love you. I trust you implicitly. It took me a while to get there...to be able to say that...but I do. Just...please. Please touch me," he says, a plaintive note to his voice.  
  
He jumps a little as Harry's finger presses in, the pressure unfamiliar and tight inside him but not altogether unwelcome. He can feel himself automatically squeezing Harry's digit and it's...interesting. He waits for the twist or the thrust of Harry's finger but Harry doesn't twitch at all.  
  
"Harry," Louis whines, "what are you doing?"  
  
"I want you to fuck yourself," Harry says now, his voice low and deep as he bends closer to Louis' body.  
  
Louis gasps a little.  
  
"Who are you and what have you done with my little innocent Harry?"  
  
"Little innocent Harry would like a show," Harry responds and there's a trace of that self-satisfied amusement in his tone that is so like him…but there's also an expectation.  
  
Louis is totally at his mercy right now. Yet only because he chooses to be. He wants this just as much as Harry. So he forces himself back against Harry's finger, cringing just slightly at the first stroke but then Harry bends his fingers slightly, grazing his prostate and Louis is more than comforted...he's spurred on. He rocks back and forth against Harry's finger, letting out a choked noise whenever he jolts forward and his hard on brushes against the soft blankets.  
  
"I'm going to insert another finger now," Harry warns him and the only response Louis gives is to force his ass backward, displaying it eagerly.  
  
With two fingers inside him, crooking towards his prostate on every stroke, Louis near sees heaven as his eyes fall closed and he pushes back and forth to a rhythm of his own accord. He's just starting to get lost in the sensation, his pace picking up as his cock fills with blood and oozes pre come when Harry pulls his fingers away. Louis feels achingly empty without them.  
  
"Harry!" He complains, a crazed edge to his tone.  
  
Harry's hand skates over his lower back now.  
  
"You are so sexy. I couldn't help but touch myself," Louis lets a pleased smile spread across in response to Harry’s admission, "but I need more. I need to have you."  
  
Louis turns over now, desperate to glimpse the look on Harry's face and he's not disappointed. Harry's eyes could burn down half of London with their hunger. I've finally met my match, Louis thinks, hauling Harry into a deep kiss.  
  
"I want to...try something," Harry says suddenly, a nervous edge to his tone.  
  
Louis just bobs his head happily. He'd go along with any of Harry's bizarre plans in this moment. Harry pats his thigh.  
  
"Spread your legs a bit wider," he advises.  
  
Louis' confused when Harry bobs back down between his legs but then he feels something wet and cold trace his hole and it's all he can do not to grip Harry's hair and pull. As it is, he does tug on his curls a little, his head lolling back at the strange but shudder inducing sensation. Yet Harry doesn't give him time to recover, just plunges his tongue deep into Louis' hole, reaching up without looking to run his hand over Louis' cock once more. Louis is in heaven.  
  
"Oh my god. Harry. Fucking hell. Where the fuck did you learn this? Ah-"  
  
His voice cuts off as Harry reaches further, his tongue twisting and awakening nerves Louis didn't even know he had down there. It's only a minute before Louis pulls Harry back up to his level.  
  
"I need you to fuck me. Now," he demands.  
  
"That can be arranged," Harry says with a quirk of his wet, swollen lips.  
  
Louis runs his fingers down the side of his face in response.  
  
"Want you to ride me," Harry adds now, biting his lip ferociously.  
  
"Love to.”  
  
They move so that Harry is seated up against the headboard and then Louis slides the condom on over Harry's length but just as he's about to slide himself down over Harry, Harry grabs his face.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you. I'll never hurt you," he promises.  
  
Louis' lips quiver a little with the weight of his love for this boy.  
  
"Don't promise that love. Just promise that you'll never hurt me so badly that I won't return."  
  
"I promise," Harry says immediately, his hands cupping Louis' hips as Louis slowly lowers himself.  
  
Louis cringes slightly at the girth as Harry's cock breaks his entrance and Harry squeezes his hips, grounding him; forever bringing him back to earth. He moves slower than he's ever moved in his life, feeling his cock throb at the way Harry's breath hitches with every inch. Louis’ eyes have fallen closed but when he finally reaches the base, they fly open and meet the half lidded eyes of Harry.  
  
"I'm-I'm," Harry stutters, "this is..."  
  
Louis chuckles.  
  
"Just you wait."  
  
Harry's pupils dilate as Louis raises himself up a little before slamming back down into his lap. Louis repeats the motion, sliding higher this time, finding he quite likes the way Harry fills him so completely. Harry's hands reach out to him now, running through his hair, skating over his shoulder and his abs before coming to rest on his thighs.  
  
"Scoot forward," Louis tells him now.  
  
When he does so, Louis wraps his legs around him, making it a tighter fit as he squeezes tight against Harry and forces himself all the way back up then all the way back down in a fluid, rapid motion that makes Harry's eyes roll a little. Louis buries his head in Harry's warm neck, feeling the erratic pulse beneath his skin as Harry's hands ghost over his hips before clutching him tightly and forcing him up and down, faster and more violently than before.  
  
"Louis," he pants now, "Louis, oh god."  
  
Louis changes his tack now, sensing that Harry won't last long and begins to slide forward a little into Harry’s stomach as he moves down on his cock, forcing Harry's cock to press more urgently against his prostate and their bodies to cling more tightly together. Louis attempts to wrap a hand around himself as Harry groans near his ear but Harry notices and leans back, knocking his hand away.  
  
"Allow me dear," he says with a wink, his expression faltering slightly as Louis purposely squeezes around him.  
  
So Harry's hand begins to ghost over his cock like lightning and he rocks himself against Harry’s body, curving his own body so that with every movement, Harry's cock nudges his prostate. It isn't long before Harry's hand freezes on his cock, his jaw slackening as he comes.  
  
"Louis," he sighs, sounding desperate and euphoric all at once as the sensations seemingly overwhelm him.  
  
Louis reaches up a hand to comfort him but Harry catches it, batting it away before grabbing Louis cock again, this time in a vice like grip. Louis bucks into Harry's fist, letting the pressure travel up through his veins, sending off sparks off electricity that begin to build as his hips swing faster and faster, his clock sliding in and out of Harry's hand at lightning speed as his head falls back.  
  
"You look beautiful like this," Harry sighs.  
  
That's all it takes. Louis throws his head back completely now, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he lets out a guttural moan and comes all over Harry's hand, seizing slightly as the built up tension flows out through his slit. He shudders deeply when Harry lifts him off his lap, bending down over him to suckle at the head. When Harry finally looks up, Louis slides the condom off his softening cock, tying it up and throwing it at the bin before taking Harry's mouth in an aggressive kiss.  
  
They kiss for a while, the passion fading out to soft brushes of lips and soft, fond looks before they slide in under the covers, their eyelids drooping from exertion. Louis gathers Harry in his arms, pulling him against his own body by the waist and sliding his fingers into his hair as Harry hums contentedly.  
  
"Best sex I've ever had," Louis sighs against Harry's shoulder, scratching his scalp slightly.  
  
"No way!" Harry says, disbelieving, his hands finding the bones in Louis' back as he pulls back to look at him.  
  
"It's true. I don't know if it's technique or purely because I'm in love with you," Louis muses, the same intimate smile gracing his mouth as the one reflected back at him, "but I suspect a little of both, my not so inexperienced boyfriend."  
  
"Ben gave me some pointers," Harry admits with a sheepish grin.  
  
Louis hardens beneath his touch...and not in the good way. Harry notes the tightness around his eyes and reaches up to smooth it away.  
  
"Oh no Lou. Please don't be mad. He's not interested anymore. He only ever wanted a one night stand. Nothing like this. Nothing like what we have. And I want you. Only you. It's just...I know he's been with a lot of guys and, and I didn't want to disappoint you if you ever asked me to do this with you," Harry rushes to say, his mouth turned down with worry.  
  
Louis tries to swallow the knot of anxiety in his throat. Ben is a friend. Nothing more. If he repeats the words often enough, perhaps the insane jealously will subside.  
  
"I love you..." Harry says, a question in his tone as he pulls his fingers through Louis' fringe.  
  
"I love you too," Louis assures him now, kissing him softly, "you've got me hook, line and sinker Harry Styles.

 

….

 

 

“This is like being out to dinner with Brad and Ange and Posh and Becks at the same time,” Niall grumbles, banging his head on the table before him.

 

“We bags Posh and Becks!” Harry says swiftly, pushing his lips out in Louis’ direction.

 

“You know me too well,” Louis sighs, granting Harry’s request as he kisses him briefly.

 

“Hey, I’ve seen pictures of you in your uniform,” Harry leers at him, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, “this is pure selfishness.”

 

Louis laughs loud and delightedly, bright streams of humour spilling from his blue eyes as he reaches out to tousle Harry’s curls.

 

“Guess that makes us Brangelina,” Liam says grumpily, shooting them both a dirty look.

 

Zayn throws a relaxed arm around his shoulders and smiles.

His dark eyes glow like a cat’s and his cheeks lift, sharpening every finely cut angle of his face.

 

“No babe, we’re Batman and Robin.”

 

“Batman isn’t gay with Robin.” Niall says skeptically.

 

“He is when he’s in my bedroom looking an awful lot like Liam Payne beneath the mask,” Zayn challenges, causing Liam to flush and push his face against his fiancée’s neck, pressing his lips against his pulse point.

 

“Ugh,” Louis groans, “you two are the opposite of a fine wine…you’re only getting worse with age.”

 

Zayn opens his mouth to retort but is silenced by the waiter asking if he’d like a drink to start. Harry takes the opportunity to lean into Louis again, sliding his hand up his thigh and whispering into his ear, “be nice... babe.”

 

Harry’s recent discovery of how much Louis enjoys this particular endearment has lead to him using it to charm Louis way too often, yet still Louis can’t help the swirl of his stomach upon hearing it.

 

“They only got engaged a week ago,” Harry pulls lightly on his earlobe with his teeth now, causing a small bubble of lust to form within Louis. “If it were us…if I were Zayn, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you all night.”

 

Louis shoots wild, panicked eyes Harry’s way at the mere mention of marriage. It’s been less than a month! Surely Harry can’t be thinking about these things already. Of course Louis doesn’t want to be with anyone other than Harry. And it sure doesn’t seem like he’ll ever feel this way again. Especially with the way he dreams about the kid…even when he’s lying next to him at night but…marriage?

 

Louis has had to watch his parents’ marriage fall apart around him, heck he’s been hurt by someone he thought he loved himself. He’s not ready for promises or commitments like this. He’s only just started to open his heart to someone again after keeping it guarded so closely for so many years. He just wants to be with Harry in the moment. Fuck, he wants to be with Harry every moment when he really lets himself consider it but that’s….that’s scary and he’s not ready to travel down that road quite yet.

 

“Then again…” Harry breathes, his all too knowing green eyes catching and then smoothing out the fear in Louis’ own, “I can barely keep my hands off you as is.”

 

Now Harry lets his fingers trail up the inner seam of Louis’ jeans to palm at his cock. Louis freezes, his breath stuck in his throat at the way Harry’s so casually touching him like this in public. I mean sure it’s hidden from view…mostly….but it’s…it’s so risky. The boy is kind of a force to be reckoned with. Louis is staring into Harry’s dancing eyes, breathing hot and heavy as his newly corrupted boyfriend palms him beneath the table when the waiter appears by his side and clears his throat.

 

“Any beverages for you gentleman?” He asks, turning up his nose and visibly blanching at the intimacy that is apparent between Harry and Louis.

 

Ah, one of those. Louis notices it immediately. Some have a gaydar; he has a radar for ignorant fucktards who hate gays. This guy is clearly one of them…which is ironic seeing as he’s wearing a too tight, black silk vest over an even tighter white shirt. The frills on his long sleeves and his artfully arranged hair that flips back upon itself do nothing but confirm Louis’ suspicions. He’s about as twink as they get. Then again it’s not so much the attire (Louis’ not one to stereotype) so much as it is the way his eyes dart down to Louis’ lips and away several times as Louis surveys him with a look. He’s only shaken out of his trance when Harry’s chin presses sharply against his shoulder, his deep timbered voice cutting into his analysis.

 

“You’re staring… _babe_.”

 

This time it’s said with deep sarcasm and gritted teeth. Jealous. Harry is jealous. Louis tries not to grin too widely…but it’s difficult.

 

Anyway, Louis’ already come to a conclusion about the waiter. Not only in the closet but in denial too. Those ones are always the worst. They take it out on everybody else. Look down on and then punish anybody who reminds them that they’re not being true to themselves.

 

“We’ll both have a gin and tonic,” Louis says in the most seductive tone he can manage, drawing his forefinger around the rim of his water glass as he bites his lip.

 

The waiter’s eyes widen and he pauses, glancing between Louis and Harry in fear and confusion. Louis can only take a guess at the look Harry’s giving him considering the startled look in his cobalt blue eyes.

 

“Ah…r…right,” the man stutters, “I’ll just um…get that for you.”

 

“You do that.”

 

Louis smirks at him before reaching behind him to squeeze Harry’s thigh.

 

“My boyfriend and I like it dirty,” Louis says, winking suggestively.

 

The man looks horrified.

 

“I…um…what?”

 

“The drinks, I mean,” Louis says now, pressing a dainty hand against his chest, “silly me. Almost implied something improper and in such a posh establishment too, how rude of me.”

 

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” the man says hurriedly, blue eyes chaotic as he whips around and stumbles away.

 

Louis turns back to the table with a triumphant grin and then laughs as all but Harry break into rapturous applause. The three boys then start discussing their own experiences with gays in the closet…well, Zayn cuts off Liam’s story about his ex with a sharp look, providing his own insight instead. Niall plants his head in his hand, looking quite fascinated for a regular straight boy. Louis feels Harry pull on his sleeve, turning to meet his eyes. He can’t help but chortle at the boy’s petulant pout.

 

“You flirted with him,” Harry accuses, mouth drawn tight.

 

Louis’ being a right shit…but he’s feeling playful.

 

“Did I?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, his fringe falling across his forehead.

 

Harry sighs, clearly bothered as he gingerly pushes it back into place.

 

“Don’t be coy,” he warns, wrapping a hand around Louis’ neck, “you’re not cute.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes.

 

“Yeah and you’re not charming. Babe, no need for dishonesty.”

 

Harry glowers now, squeezing his neck just a touch tighter.

 

“I know what you were doing. I know what he is. But don’t. Even to make him uncomfortable. Just don’t,” Harry pleads, his green eyes leaking sincerity all over the place.

 

The cockiness slips away at the sight of Harry’s insecurity. Louis hadn’t meant to affect him so much.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says lowly, “I’m sorry Harry.”

 

He reaches across and grabs Harry’s own neck now, tugging him forward so that their lips meet in an insistent kiss. He parts his mouth against Harry’s, his blue eyes leaden as he waits until Harry’s own eyes open, just a breath away from his own.

 

“Forgive me.”

 

“Don’t I always?” Harry sighs, closing his mouth over Louis’ top lip before sucking gently on the bottom one.

 

“Harry it’s only been a few weeks,” Louis laughs, pulling back now.

 

“Yeah and how often have you sabotaged this in that time?” Harry says with a meaningful look.

 

“Good point.”

 

Louis had failed to notice that the whole table had gone silent but when he looks back at the boys, they’re all grinning at each other.

 

“What?” He snaps.

 

“You two are so cute,” Niall guffaws in his strong Irish twang.

 

“I think it’s the white shirt,” Liam adds, leaning across the table to pull at Harry’s sleeve.

 

“I think its cause we’re in love,” Harry says slowly, smiling radiantly at Louis.

 

Louis nudges Harry’s foot beneath the table, taking his hand where it rests on his thigh. However he holds tight to his look of exasperation.

 

“Sap.”

 

“Sorry, I know how much you hate anybody going soft.”

 

The implication is clear, Harry reminding Louis of the gentle affection he just proffered as he squeezes his palm, trailing a thumb up his little finger, his grin turning cheeky.

 

“Ain’t that cute,” Zayn’s teeth show as he claps his hands together exaggeratedly, “Larry will be shacking up before we know it.”

 

Louis glares at him.  

 

“I told you not to call us that,” he grumbles, which makes Harry grumble because he likes the term so much, “and shacking up…..no. No, not anytime soon. We just got together. That’s ridiculous.”

 

Louis turns his head, waiting for Harry to bob his curls or shoot down Zayn with a rare humorous comment but instead he sees sadness in the set of his eyes and the downward tilt of his mouth. Harry tries to hide it, squeezing his hand once more and finally nodding after a short, awkward pause but it’s blatant on his face and Louis knows that this just might be a problem in the near future. Harry is, after all, not far off finishing school and that means he’ll probably move out. Louis knows he can afford to, what with his earnings from the bakery and the money Anne’s been setting aside for him all these years. So the question is ringing in his ears. Should he ask Harry to move in with him?

 

Not now. Of course not. They need time and plenty of it to adjust to being together, to adjust to silly fights and makeup sex, to jealousy and absence, to not being able to get enough and yet sometimes needing space. They need time for Louis to wrap his head around this whole being honest with his emotions thing. His heart still races every time he says I love you. Yet he knows that in a few months, the time will come for him to ask or to not ask and again he will be tested. Again he will hold a curly headed cherub’s heart in his hand without an instruction booklet on how to handle it. But Louis is sure of one thing. He’s sure that Harry will understand even if he chooses wrong because Harry is here after all, even after all his ignorance. Harry would never lose faith in him.

 

……..

 

Harry tightens his deep ruby scarf around his neck, pulling his thick curly fringe to the side as Louis watches on, confused.

 

“What are you doing?” He questions now, coming up behind Harry and wrapping his arms around the younger boy’s waist.

 

Louis stares at their reflection in the mirror before them. They complement each other perfectly. His own arrangement of a carefully styled quiff and clear, rather innocent looking blue eyes belied by a dark, loose singlet, ripped denim jacket and black skinny jeans wrapped around the angelic boy. The angelic boy with growing curls that loosely tickle the nape of his slightly reddened neck, a half unbuttoned white shirt and tight black and white striped pants paired with pointy toed brown boots.

 

Louis is all rough edges next to Harry’s sophistication but there’s a little of Louis’ chaos in Harry’s tattoo and the slow, sexy curl of his smile. There’s a little of Harry’s unique sense of style in the thick silver band Louis now wears on his middle finger.

 

“I told you….I have a writing session tonight,” Harry says impatiently, patting Louis hands where they rest folded on his stomach.

 

Louis pulls his mouth across the curve of Harry’s neck, smiling triumphantly at Harry’s reflection when he feels his pulse stutter.

 

“No, you said you had to write. I thought you meant here. With me,” he argues, still keeping his voice level, “Harry it’s our six month anniversary.”

 

Quite the six months it has been. Harry finished his schooling and decided to study music at Louis’ university and has been writing songs to play for music producers without pause, trying to find the perfect sound. Louis has done his best to help, in between starting his final year of uni and attending auditions all over the place. Yet it’s funny how the more he engages in the writing process with Harry, the more he thinks about the journals sitting underneath his bed at his childhood home.

 

Every time Harry asks Louis to sing the backup vocals, he gets this small, tremulous smile on his face and this secretive gleam in his eye as if afraid to breathe his pride out loud for fear of being told off. Louis does love singing to Harry, especially singing him to sleep but every time he sees that light in Harry’s eyes, that glow that seems to say, ‘I’ve got plans for you,’ he feels genuine fright.

 

Yet beyond the music, beyond their respective paths toward what they both hope will be success, there has been bliss coloured with tiny shots of reality. There has been bubble baths that end with a certain amount of thrashing and a bucket load of water sloshing over the sides, Harry giggling into Louis’ shoulder at the resulting mess and Louis groaning half-heartedly as his insides still throb with the sensation of his orgasm. There has been texts from Anne to Louis (she demanded his number pretty quickly) demanding to know why her son has been MIA for a week and asking none too politely when they plan on coming up for air. There’s been weekends spent down in Donny with Harry letting Lottie paint his nails while the rest of the girls tug on his sleeves and wait for their turn to be showered in his attention.

 

Harry is brilliant with them. Truly. Fizzy giggles for hours on end at his awful jokes and Phoebe and Daisy are never more in their element than when they’re being chased around the backyard by Harry and Louis, delightedly squealing as Jay and Dan watch on from afar each bobbing a baby on their hip. That isn’t to say Louis isn’t just as proficient with Harry’s family, having bonded instantly with Gemma over their mockery of Harry’s hipster Instagram shots. She’d taken to calling him loubear which he found slightly emasculating but put up with it anyway because when he’d gone to the protest that very first time, Harry had very quietly let him know that if Louis didn’t rain on her parade then he would happily let Louis fuck him deep into the mattress later on.

 

As for Anne, they’d shared both stern words and many cups of tea with warm hugs. Anne liked to try and force him into discussing his and Harry’s future when Harry left the room, warning him that if he didn’t ask Harry to move in with him soon, he’d lose him. Louis mostly ignored her. He knew what he was doing. He was taking his time, just like he’d explained to Harry each and every time he brought it up, crooning Louis’ name and pouting as Louis pushed him out the door with a firm kiss on his grudging mouth. Anne is like a surrogate mother sometimes, that is if he needed one, coming around when Harry’s not there just to ‘chat about your life love’ and to restock his cupboard with all Harry’s favourites. It seems now that Harry’s got his own place, Anne’s struggling a bit to adjust, even with Robin there to keep her company.

 

These path six months with Harry have consisted of embarrassing childhood stories told in hushed whispers in the darkness of most commonly Louis’ flat with cooing sounds or muffled laughter on Harry’s end and pure mockery and delight from Louis. There has been mornings waking up with Harry plastered to his body, a mess of curls smothering his face as he bites down on the sappiest, most tragic smile he’ll ever feel touch his face. There’s been incessant texting when they’re apart and burning, lustful looks when they’re in a public place perhaps followed by a quickie in Louis’ car, in the toilets or wherever they can have even a smidgen of privacy to soothe their insatiable appetite for each other.

 

Sure there’s been fights, mostly about the fact that Louis is not ready to live with Harry and that Louis still gets a bit tongue tied when the topic of their future comes up. Harry thinks that he’s worried for no good reason, that things would only be better if they lived together but Louis has already lost Harry once, or at least…he thought he had and he doesn’t want to risk everything changing. For now, this is the way it has to be.

 

“I know it’s our six months,” Harry says tetchily, “but I’ll be gone for an hour, two at the most. We’ve been together all day and we’ll be together tonight. I just need to go over some stuff with Ben.”

 

“Ben? That’s who you’re going to see? On our anniversary?” Louis pulls back, his fingers trembling with rage as he balls his fists.

 

Harry whips around, his eyes flashing angrily now.

 

“Don’t Louis. Just don’t. Who did you think I meant?”

 

“I dunno…Zayn maybe,” Louis says, watching himself in the mirror, noting the way his lips turn white with rage.

 

Ben is kind of a sore spot for them given the fact that Harry insists on writing with him and Louis insists that it’s inappropriate given Ben’s blatant attraction to him.

 

“Look, Ben knows what he’s doing. He knows what sounds work with what I write. Why is this such a problem for you?”

 

“You know why,” Louis says with gritted teeth.

 

“My god, Louis…when are you going to get over it? You know I’m not into him. I love you. Only you,” Harry implores, moving quickly across the room to grasp Louis’ chin.

 

Louis tries to tug his face away but Harry’s grip is strong and Louis hates it. He hates being vulnerable like this; being the weak, jealous one. He doesn’t want to put constraints on who Harry can and can’t see but the thought of his unassuming boyfriend sitting in a studio with someone who once tried to bed him drives him mad. He can see it all too clearly…the way Ben would leave the control panel for the booth, tell Harry what adjustments he should make and then, just as Harry’s eyes latched onto him, desperate for more feedback, Ben would kiss him. Harry idolises Ben, models himself on him even and if Ben kissed him….if Ben…if Ben touched him…maybe Harry wouldn’t mind…

 

“He kissed you. You kissed him back,” Louis says now, the words squeezed from his tight airway which is choked with sadness and fear.

 

Harry’s green eyes turn deathly sad now as his thumb rubs over Louis’ cheek.

 

“Lou, babe…” Damn charming asshole, Louis swears inwardly, “that was so long ago and I was tipsy and I had no idea what was going to happen with you. You know this. Why can’t you trust me?”

 

Harry looks kind of hopeless now, his whole face drooping downwards as he regards Louis and Louis knows he’s disappointed him, that he’s disappointing him still even as he raises himself up on tiptoes and curls an arm around his waist, bringing their lips together.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, too quiet, too calm, “you should go. Go write.”

 

Harry looks defeated as he wraps his own arm around Louis, squeezing tight, as if fearful that Louis might slip away.

 

“I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me, why you won’t just trust me. You don’t want to live with me, you don’t trust me and you,” Harry’s breath shakes, “and you won’t even give me a good reason. It’s all excuses with you Louis.”

 

Harry pulls away now, his eyes drifting to the floor and Louis feels like this is a turning point, like if he doesn’t fix this now, it might just be too late.

 

“Harry,” he rasps, stalking after him, “please.”

 

Harry stands with his hand on the door, his shoulders set but he turns back now, his eyes burning.

 

“What do you want Louis? I feel like I’m wasting my time with you. I love you…I love you more than any nineteen year old boy should be able to but I do. And you…maybe you feel the same but every time I try to keep you with me, try to secure us a future, it’s like pulling teeth. It’s like,” Harry’s voice breaks and his bottom lip wobbles tellingly, “it’s like you’re just waiting for it to be over so you can go back to being you, so you can go back to being Louis, the single bachelor.”

 

“Harry,” Louis’ own voice is wearing thin, his throat dry, as he tries to eject the words that Harry needs to hear…the words that won’t come, “Harry, just don’t leave right now. Just…I don’t know…we’ll talk…we will…just please don’t go. I love you Harry. I love you so goddamn much. It scares the shit out of me.”

 

Harry looks small and sad as he turns away, twisting the doorknob before him.

 

“I know,” he sighs, “and that’s the problem. Maybe I shouldn’t be with someone who’s so scared to be with me. Maybe I should be with someone who knows they want a future with me.” 

 

“I do,” Louis says firmly…desperately, unwilling to believe how quickly his whole world is crumbling before him, “I do want a future with you.”

 

The door is wide open now, the slightly cool evening air ruffling Harry’s curls just slightly and making Louis’ singlet billow threateningly. Yet Harry’s just standing there, turning to face Louis again with tear filled eyes that make Louis feel wretched inside.

 

“You know, Ben asked me to move in with him,” he says with a scratchy voice, causing Louis’ eyes to widen, his muscles to tense, “I said no. I said I’d rather wait for you to ask me. But you won’t, will you? You don’t trust me, you don’t want us to ever progress beyond what we are. Maybe I should tell him I changed my mind. He said it’d be easier for us to work together if we were roommates. He’s probably right.”

 

“Harry,” Louis voice has shrunk to something frail and echoic; he’s already a shadow of what he was with Harry by his side, “don’t give up on me. Please. Please don’t let me go.”

 

Harry takes one step out the door and then stills.

 

“That’s just it Louis. I’m not letting you go. You’re letting me go. I’m not walking out on you because I want to, I’m walking out because you’re not giving me any other alternative. You won’t ask me to live with you, you won’t trust me around Ben. It’s always up to me make concessions for your fears, for your insecurities but I’m done doing all the compromising,” Harry’s back shows no sign of movement but Louis can just sense it, the way Harry tenses before his next remark, “goodbye Louis.”

 

“No, Harry-“ He calls out but Harry just shuts the door behind him and when Louis finally manages to untwist the stupid, faulty lock, Harry’s car is already gone.

 

Louis slides down the door, not even caring that he’s imitating every clichéd movie breakup in history as tears press against the bottom of his eyelids until he can’t take the pressure of holding them back anymore. He lets them slide down his face like droplets of liquid pain as his own shaky breaths force their way out of his chest and Harry’s sad green eyes rise before him like a vision of regret. He’s lost Harry. Again. His phone vibrates twice in his pocket and he scrabbles quickly to remove it, laughing humorlessly as he reads the texts.

 

Liam: _Happy 6 months guys! Thought we’d just text you both in the 1 go_

_Love Batman + Robin x_

Niall: **_Just hanging out with Ziam and they reminded me of your special day. Don’t ruin him too much Lou ;) He’s a fragile thing – our Harry. Happy 6 months !_**

****

Our Harry. My Harry. Not anymore, Louis thinks morosely as he twists the silver band on his finger, pulling it off and throwing it across the room into the kitchen, listening as it pings off something metal. No, just your Harry now Niall. He’s not mine.

 

…….

 

Three weeks later and Harry has refused to see him each and every day, refused to hear him out at all. Three weeks of ignored texts, missed phone calls and being refused access to Ben’s where Harry has promptly relocated to…but today it’s all going to change. Today Louis is going to talk to Harry one way or another. Today he will prove to Harry that he’s more than this fear inside his soul, that even if he can’t promise him anything right now, they have a future together. He’s sure of that.

 

So he slides on his tight black skinnies, his tight white shirt that scoops low enough to show off his tattoo and his black denim jacket and heads over to Ben’s to see Harry, to get his boyfriend back, to tell the only person he’s ever loved like this, that he’s not getting away this easy. Harry might be done with him but he’s sure as hell not done with Harry.

 

“I need to see him,” are the first words out his mouth when Ben opens the door.

 

Ben gives him a disparaging look.

 

“Do you just?”

 

Louis doesn’t appreciate the tone. He also doesn’t appreciate that Harry’s living under the roof of someone who wouldn’t mind getting into his pants but if he wants Harry back, he has to start trusting him and that starts now. It means crazy jealous boyfriend has to take a backseat while begging for forgiveness boyfriend takes the reigns.

 

“Ben…please. I know you probably never liked me because you wanted Harry and I-“

 

“I’m seeing someone Louis,” Ben interrupts him with raised eyebrows.

 

“You are?” Louis’ own eyebrows are up near his hair, “Since when? Harry never mentioned-“

 

Ben interrupts him again.

 

“Harry never mentioned it because he wanted you to trust him. He wanted you to be okay with him and me being mates even if I was single. Which I’m not. I mean sure, the kid’s sex on legs,” Louis’ whole face darkens with anger, “but I’m not interested in your boyfriend anymore.”

 

“Oh and I don’t dislike you Louis. I just wish you’d treat him better. Kid’s head over heels for you and it seems to me that you feel the same….so what the hell are you doing mate?”

 

Ben’s crossing his arms now, his expression expectant.

 

“I…I…” Louis stutters, “Can I just see him?”

 

“He’s at uni. Probably in one of the practice rooms. He’ll probably kill me for telling you but I think it’s about time you worked things out,” Ben gestures to him now, a grin on his face, “I mean, you look like shit.”

 

Louis opens his mouth to protest but Ben just winks and then shuts the door in his face. Right. Its 3 pm in the afternoon and Harry’s still at uni despite the fact that his classes finished hours ago. Maybe he needs the distraction. Maybe he even misses Louis. Louis feels a surge of hope as he quickens his step, the sunshine stroking his back as he jumps back in his car and floors it the whole way. He doesn’t have time for sloth speed today, he’s got a boyfriend to ensnare.

 

…..

 

Louis checks in five practice rooms before finally opening the sixth set of yellow doors and finding Harry perched on the edge of a piano seat, scribbling lyrics into a tattered notebook resting precariously against the edge of the keys. Louis had taught Harry some piano soon after they’d started dating. Stan let them use his piano on Sunday afternoons and they’d sit on the seat together, Harry positioned between the v created by his legs, their thighs squeezing each other as Louis drew his arms around Harry and instructed him which keys were which.

 

Sometimes when Harry would play unguided, Louis would kiss the nape of his neck, dragging his mouth back and forth with a firm hand pressed to his thigh until he let out that adorable whine of “Louuu, stop distracting me” and Louis was forced to draw back, completely unapologetic as he whispered “sorry babe” against his ear. Harry would twist his head, a fond smile on his face and their lips would meet and brush against each other until Harry finally pushed him away with a firm hand against his chest and resumed playing. Louis took to wondering if sex on a piano was as good as Julia Roberts and Richard Gere made it look.

 

Now here is Harry, clothed in a silky grey shirt that is of course mostly unbuttoned, that finishes just below the elbows and waist high black jeans. His chocolate brown curls look soft and shiny where they fall against his neck and Louis would like nothing more than to sweep them away and brush his lips over the back of Harry’s neck, the way he got so used to doing whenever he stumbled across Harry working on his lyrics late at night when he was on his way to use the toilet.

 

Harry sings softly to himself now as his fingers fall gingerly over the keys and the tune situates itself somewhere in Louis’ chest, making it hard to breathe as he mourns the absence of the happy blush in Harry’s cheeks and the constant curl of his lazy smile. He knows his transfixed expression is slowly transforming into reverence. This beautiful masterpiece is mine, he thinks. Was mine, he corrects belatedly, until he screwed everything the fuck up. Watching Harry’s face burn with sincerity, his forehead creasing as his eyes fall shut, his fingers still playing the piano so proficiently, Louis is struck dumb with love. Harry is dazzling. Louis is at a loss for words as the lyrics fill his eyes with unshed tears.

 

_I got a heart and I got a soul_

_Believe me I will use them both_

_We made a start_

_Be it a false one, I know_

_Baby, I don't want to feel alone_

 

_So kiss me where I lay down,_

_your hands pressed to my cheeks_

_A long way from the playground_

 

_I have loved you since I was 18_

_Long before we both thought the same thing_

_To be loved and to be in love_

_All I can do is say that these arms were made for holding you_

_I wanna love like you made me feel_

_When I was 18_

 

_We took a chance_

_God knows we tried_

_Yet all along, I knew we'd be fine_

_So pour me a drink oh love,_

_Let’s split the night wide open and we'll see everything_

_Live in love in slow motion, motion, motion_

 

_So kiss me where I lay down,_

_Your hands pressed to my cheeks_

_A long way from the playground_

 

_I have loved you since I was 18_

_Long before we both thought the same thing_

_To be loved and to be in love_

_And all I can do is say that these arms are made for holding you, ooh_

_And I wanna love like you made me feel_

_When I was 18_

 

_When I was 18_

_Oh lord, when I was 18_

 

_Kiss me where I lay down,_

_Your hands pressed to my cheeks_

_A long way from the playground_

 

_I have loved you since I was 18_

_Long before we both thought the same thing_

_To be loved and to be in love_

_And all I can do is say that these arms were made for holding you_

_And I wanna love like you made me feel_

_When I was 18_

_I wanna love like you made me feel_

_When I was 18_

_I wanna love like you made me feel_

_When was 18_

 

Harry sits there, motionless after he finishes, his eyes still closed, breathing deeply, almost as though asleep. He’s stunning. Louis hates to interrupt but this is…if that was for him…Harry has to listen. Harry might want to listen.

 

“You write beautiful songs Harry,” he says, breaking the silence.

 

Harry’s eyes fly open and he spins in the chair to meet Louis’ eyes, immediately tracking his way down Louis body before returning to his face.

 

“Louis,” he says, slightly breathless, “what are you doing here?”

 

“Ben told me that-“

 

“Ben,” Harry huffs now, seemingly regaining composure as he turns back to the piano, pointedly ignoring him.

 

Yet Louis won’t be deterred. He crosses the room and slides onto the chair next to Harry, wrapping a hand around his wrist to stop him from moving but Harry doesn’t move, just winces.

 

“Harry,” Louis pauses, studying Harry’s screwed up expression. Surely Harry’s not this negatively affected by his touch, “what’s wrong?”

 

“Just,” Harry breathes out through his nose, “just…let go of my wrist…please.”

 

Yet the panicked look in Harry’s eyes only encourages Louis to squeeze tighter. He won’t be denied a chance to explain himself. Yet instead of showing anger, Harry hisses out a breath, his face blanching. He’s in pain, Louis realises, physical pain. He releases his hold but as Harry slowly draws his hand back, Louis grabs it, his eyes looming large in his face as he spies the little black padlock with a small line of red raised skin circled around it on Harry’s wrist.

 

“Is that a-“Louis’ own voice cuts off as he chokes on the realisation.

 

“Padlock tattoo…yes,” Harry sighs, “it’s fairly recent and it hasn’t healed yet. You squeezing it wasn’t helping.”

 

Harry’s trying to sound cross but Louis can tell by the way he avoids his eyes that he knows he’s being backed into a corner.

 

“Harry,” Louis breathes now, amazement colouring his tone, “does that…I mean, is that….you got that because I have a key…on my ankle? And that song, that beautiful song…that was for me?”

 

Harry’s face is blooming beautiful red tomatoes when he looks up, his green eyes locked on Louis’ with distinct frustration.

 

“That was before,” he says angrily, “I wrote the song before we broke up. And the tattoo…that was meant to be a surprise…for our anniversary. Ben was coming with me to get it. Of course after what happened, there was no real point in it but then it meant something different…then it was the symbol for locking away our memories. For locking away every part of me that belonged to you.”

 

Harry was going to get a matching tattoo the night that Louis got irrationally jealous. Louis feels like even more of a turd now. “Harry,” he cries out, his voice thick with emotion as he rubs his thumbs across each side of Harry’s stiff jaw, trying to loosen the tension held there, “Harry, I’m so sorry. Please just…please tell me what it meant before. I need to know.”

 

“I was going to get it because…” Harry sighs and Louis thumbs continue to trace circles into his face, attempting to soothe, “because when we were together, it was like you were my lock and I was your key. You were this impenetrable force that I couldn’t always get through to, this tough, iron heart that didn’t want to give an inch but with me…it was different…or at least I wanted it to be. I thought there was a space inside you shaped just for me that would let me in, that because I was meant to be with you, I could access that part of you that nobody else could. I thought I could open you up. And so…having that lock…having _you_ there on my wrist…”

 

Harry’s face crumples now and he pulls one hand through the other tightly, holding it all back. Louis kind of wishes he wouldn’t.

 

“It was like,” his voice wavers, “like I always had this symbol of my faith in you because I believed you’d eventually open up for me completely…that maybe you’d want to.”

 

Harry waits, his eyes on the floor now as his whole mouth trembles, his eyebrows pulled low, his fingers shaking. Louis pulls his hands from his quivering jaw but only so he can grab his hands, his thumbs smoothing over his palms. God, Louis’ been such an idiot. This boy is so much more than he deserves.

 

“Harry,” he says, semi-steadily, “I want to. I want you to be the key on my ankle. I want you to believe that you can open me up because you can Harry. You already have.”

 

It’s this last statement that makes Harry glance up with watery green eyes.

 

“If this is just about getting back together…”

“It is,” Louis cuts in, watches as Harry’s face shrivels further, “but it isn’t.”

 

“Riddles?” Harry says, clearly frustrated, “why don’t you tell it like it is? Like you usually would. ‘It is what it is’….isn’t that what you always say Louis?”

 

“Okay,” Louis says, holding Harry’s eyes, determination pouring out of his pores, “I want to be with you. Of course I want to be with you. But I want more than that. I want a future. I want your things, all of your things, in my flat. I want you to see Ben or any other attractive man whenever the hell you feel like because I trust you. Because this,” Louis slides a gentle finger over Harry’s tattoo, “this is a symbol of how much faith you have…or had, I dunno. And if you believed that much, then I can too. I might move in baby steps but Harry…”

 

Louis pauses, looking up at Harry from beneath his eyelashes. Harry’s hands slip out of his and form manacles around his wrists, seemingly unconsciously.

 

“Yes Lou?”

 

His eyelashes clump together with the moisture from his eyes and he looks ready to crumple again, his lips parted with what might be wonder.

 

“My feet are a lot smaller than yours.”

 

Harry’s face stills for a moment before he snorts, dissolving into laughter immediately afterwards. They laugh in time, shaking with it until Louis notices that Harry’s laughter has transformed, his tears finally brimming over as his chest heaves a little.

 

“Oh Haz,” Louis sighs, not knowing whether he’s permitted to touch Harry like this but not really caring as he pulls Harry into a close embrace.

 

Harry doesn’t protest one iota, just draws his arms up around Louis’ neck and buries his head in his shoulder as Louis rubs the small of his back.

 

“That’s just like you,” Harry hiccups through his tears, “it’s so like you, it hurts.”

 

“Harry,” Louis calms, pressing a hand against his curls, “Harry love, I’m so sorry. For everything. But I love you and I want it all with you and if I have to prove that to you then so be-“

 

Louis doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Harry pulls back quickly and cuts him off with his lips. Louis’ hands cup the sides of Harry’s face as their mouths melt together and his whole world reshapes itself into something whole. Harry’s face is wet against his but he doesn’t mind, just continues to stroke Harry’s cheeks as they kiss leisurely. When they finally break away, Louis smiles radiantly.

 

“Harry…will you move in with me?” Louis asks, only slightly tentative and only because he’s nervous Harry might change his mind.

 

Yet Harry bobs his head excitedly and presses his lips against Louis’ once more.

 

“Yes,” he sighs, sounding perfectly content, “finally…Larry are shacking up.”

 

Louis groans as Harry giggles, trying unsuccessfully to kiss Louis’ mouth as he covers it with his hand.

 

“Nope,” he refuses, turning his head away, “no kisses for you. No kisses for boyfriends who use silly names.”

 

Harry’s giggling like a five year old now, pulling at Louis’ hand much too insistently and just starting to win the battle. Louis can’t help the fond smile rearranging his features at the sight.

 

“Pleeeeese Lou,” Harry begs between giggles, “let me kiss you.”

 

It’s too much. Harry Styles is too much. Louis lets his hand fall, much to Harry’s delight but he squeezes Harry’s shoulder to stop him just before their lips touch.

 

“Only because you’re my little key,” Louis says, with a crinkly eyed smile.

 

“I’m not the little one babe,” Harry teases.

 

Louis shuts him up with a savage kiss that makes the boy moan into his mouth. As Charles Dickens would say; it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Yet it seemed that for that one moment, the worst of times had begun to abate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is the last chapter. However I will post the epilogue AND the first chapter of the new Larry story I've been writing in the upcoming days. Hopefully you've stuck around. Please leave feedback.  
> This was the last time my beta will be editing for me *sniff* because she's a busy bee and I'm impatient af so one last THANK YOU X1000000 to Kym xx  
> And hopefully you will excuse any minor errors in the future.  
> side note: I did obviously edit the lyrics for 18 to fit my purposes  
> Hopefully you enjoy this xo


	16. Chapter 16

_Epilogue_

“You’re a patient man,” Louis says, as he fixes Zayn’s tie, “waiting for him to be ready, the way you have.”

Zayn’s face is all soft curves today as he regards everything around him. The sharpness in his dark eyes is diluted with a dreamy kind of contentment as he cups Louis’ shoulder, his smile effervescent.

“It didn’t feel like much of an ask man. Two years with the man I love. He always was the reasonable one and I mean…we were only 21 when I asked. When he told me he wanted to wait….I was okay with that,” Zayn explains, rubbing his thumb against Louis’ shoulder blade.

He’s the picture perfect gentleman in his midnight black tuxedo with silver lapels and his dark bowtie. His ashen hair is shaved at the sides nowadays and he looks effortlessly striking when he stands back to admire his reflection in the ‘staging room’ as Harry likes to refer to it. The walls are a deep burgundy colour that matches the slightly darker shade of the carpet and Louis kind of likes the thought of them preparing for the main event on the red carpet.

The only items of furniture are the gilt framed mirror which Zayn stands before and the plush purple settee that sits perpendicular to a matching armchair with a small, circular wooden table between them that houses a rather antique looking silver tea set. There’s a note beside it that Louis had stopped to peruse earlier that reads;

“ _Not too much tea ! .xx_ ”

Louis smiled fondly down at the cursive script when he came across it, recognising his boyfriend’s trademark kisses immediately. He supposed Harry was quite concerned that if they drank too much, one of them might need the loo during the ceremony. The thought of excusing himself amused Louis deeply as he imagined it. “Sorry lads…just need a wee. Mind if I take Harry with me? He looks too delectable to resist in that tux.” Unfortunately Louis is yet to glimpse Harry’s ensemble as Harry’s been busy helping arrange everything and in between that he’s been with Liam, who asked him to be his best man. Niall happened to volunteer to be the ring bearer before it even became an issue that he wasn’t one of the best men.

Harry had texted Louis earlier in response to Louis’ own irate text about the fact that his boyfriend had been MIA for more than two hours. Louis might have been hoping to slip back to their flat for a little afternoon delight before the nuptials took place….yet no such luck. Harry had been firm in his refusal.

Louis: **_Where are you Harold? Want to see you in all your finery. Want to kiss you senseless. Want to fuck you. Now._**

Harry: _Ha ! Weddings usually make people emotional….I guess they just turn you on ;) Sorry love, busy helping Li practice his vows. But later. That’s a promise .xx_

Louis’ wearing a similar tuxedo to Zayn’s but without the fancy silver lapels. His hair is a little longer than it was when he first met Harry, finishing halfway down his neck and he’s grown a little bit more stubble which Harry finds quite the turn on. It had helped him when he’d first got a job as an intern at the studio where Ben’s boyfriend works.

Though he’d been young and clearly inexperienced, the producers there had quickly taken him serious when he came in looking the part and full to the brim with ideas for Harry’s record which he’s now helping to produce. Harry had been snatched up by the record company after Ben insisted that his boyfriend, Ryan, play Harry’s demo for his associates. Harry had been thrilled, demanding that as a condition of his contract, Louis should be allowed to produce.

Louis had gotten the internship a few months after leaving uni at the age of 22 when he realised that acting wasn’t really his passion. The first few months, he’d spent day in day out, helping Harry write but it hadn’t been enough and when Ben had made the suggestion one night when Louis and Harry had been at his place, Louis had felt enlivened. He’d taken to the process like a duck to water after nailing the interview. A year on and he’s got producing and writing credits on Harry’s first album and has after some reluctance, agreed to sing on one track with Harry although they’re yet to record.

Louis feels they’re both on the verge of their first taste of success with this record that they’ve spent so much time crafting. Harry’s single is set to be released in one month and Louis’ already got a small celebratory gathering planned at their flat with both their families there to congratulate him. He smiles softly now as his eyes flicker away from the note and back to Zayn’s face.

 His best friend is getting married. It’s funny how those words would have struck certain fear in his heart a couple of years back when the worst kind of future he could imagine involved being tied to another person forever. He would never have wanted that for himself and by extension, neither Zayn nor Liam. Now not only can he think of no two people better prepared for the journey on which they are about to embark but he also doesn’t begrudge them their happiness or fear it. After all, he has a little, curly haired pot of gold all of his own.

…..

Louis knows he should be watching his steps. He’s unused to walking in such large, cumbersome shoes. He’s no Harry Styles after all. He knows he should at least be making sure his hands loosely cover the tiny little thorns on the stalks of the lilac coloured flowers that he’s supposed to deliver to Harry’s hands. God knows those massive hands could find every thorn at first contact if Louis doesn’t prevent it. Yet he’s not doing either of these things because there’s a doe eyed, sharply dressed model walking towards him that roughly resembles his boyfriend and Louis is fucking mesmerised.

Harry looks beautiful in his tuxedo with the grey undercoat/vest that matches the one Liam will be wearing. His legs are god damn endless in his dark trousers and his curls, well it’s just god damn criminal the way they frame his pink cheeks. They’re stalking towards each other from opposite entrances at the sides of the room and Louis is tempted to drag Harry back out with him and into the closest room so he can enjoy him properly. Harry seems to share his sentiment…at least in part…as he drags his eyes up and down Louis’ body in a none too subtle assessment, longing filling his eyes before giving Louis a slight shake of his head, his expression playful, as if to say, ‘don’t even think about it.’

When they meet in the middle, Louis hands the flowers over and then rolls his eyes as Harry winces, clearly having been pricked by the thorn. Louis pauses, his hand on Harry’s arm to still him as he draws Harry’s thumb into his mouth and sucks the blood away, holding Harry’s eyes all the while. Harry’s hand grasps his waist, firmly pushing him back with a heated gaze and Louis can only chuckle silently, linking their arms they begin to walk down the aisle.

“You look like sex on a stick,” he whispers to Harry, winking when Harry turns to him with a look of disbelief.

If Harry thought Louis was going to be proper and respectable for this wedding, he clearly doesn’t know him very well. Yet clearly Harry’s having the same struggle, as he grins, his eyes sliding decisively over Louis’ attire.

“You look like a tarnished bad boy gone straight edged, just clean cut sexy,” he utters back, smile pointed.

Louis scoffs quietly.

“Nothing straight about me babe.”

“Want to get naked with me later hot stuff? I hear weddings are a great place for hook ups. We never have to see each other again,” Louis adds with a devilish twinkle in his eye, fluttering his eyelashes charmingly.

He knows how much Harry likes them. Harry’s smile is a mix of appreciative and wry.

“Don’t think my boyfriend would be all too happy about that.”

They’ve almost reached the end of the aisle so Louis takes the chance to squeeze the inside of Harry’s elbow tightly, this time making sure his voice rasps and scratches in all the right places as they prepare to part to their allocated sides.

“You’re right,” he says, “I’m sure your boyfriend wants his and _only_ his lips stretched around your cock when you come.”

Harry is still staring at him, slack jawed and wide eyed when it’s time to part so Louis just pats his elbow, disengaging himself with a low, amused chuckle. It takes a moment for Harry to finally get the hint and move to stand on the opposite side. They hold each other’s eyes now, oblivious to the rest of the world as heat flows between them.

Louis is however temporarily distracted when the piano starts and his eyes drift, just a touch unwillingly, to his partner in crime being escorted up the aisle by his mother. His dad had refused out of disapproval for the choice his son is making but Zayn hadn’t been too disappointed given that he’d still agreed to attend. When Zayn reaches the end of the aisle, Louis squeezes his shoulder, smiling deeply into his eyes to convey his support. Zayn looks like a dashing prince and when Liam begins to walk the red velvet pathway toward him, his dark eyes simply glow like nothing Louis’ ever seen before.

Yet Louis finds it hard to focus on the happy couple throughout the proceedings as Harry’s eyes near tear through his face with their intensity, slightly warbled and wobbly with emotion but iridescent nonetheless with their stunning green shimmer. Louis is helplessly allured by the way Harry’s eyes trace his face, almost as if a realisation were upon him, almost as if Louis had transformed from the black swan to the white in the time that had lapsed since the beginning of the nuptials.

When it’s time for the presentation of the rings, Niall pops forward in his charcoal, finely pressed suit, a manic grin on his face as he hands the rings to Louis and Harry. Harry toys with the ring for a moment, sending a small, cryptic kind of smile Louis’ way. Louis raises an eyebrow. Surely he’s not hinting that….he couldn’t be suggesting….no, no way. Louis shakes his head to clear the not all together disturbing thought. Louis hands Zayn his ring first, giving him a small slap on the bum just to break the tension. Zayn shoots him a glare but Harry chuckles and it’s all worth it.

“Liam,” Zayn addresses the light haired boy, clasping his hand tight in his own, "I know I can be a right ass when you finish the last of any of my hair products and don't tell me or when you spend too many hours at work because you simply can't stop or when you talk about any of your exes," there's a collective laugh, "I know I'm weird when I've smoked up and you have to put me to bed like I'm a toddler and I know that I'll never be a good and proper house husband. But I love you so fucking much," more laughter, Louis feels a shot of pride for insisting Zayn keep the swearing in, "and if you'll let me, I will continue to do so until we're old and senile and we're both being put to bed like toddlers cause we can't control our limbs.”

Zayn's sardonic smile fades to something softer now,

"Because from the first moment I laid eyes on you, with your ducking head and your nervous glances my way, I knew I wanted you. Maybe I didn't know how far we'd take it, that I'd want to stand up with you in front of our closest friends and family but I knew that you were going to get inside my head and screw everything up. And screw me up you did. I will never be able to tolerate anyone else's hands upon you again. Li, it's been grand," Zayn grins now as he takes the ring and gently slides it onto Liam's finger, "but I place this ring on your hand as a hint that we should get a fucking move on and take this to the next level. And as a symbol of my love, of course."  
  
There's some more quiet laughter as Liam's eyes tear a little and Zayn reaches up to rub at the droplets tenderly. Harry gives Liam a pat on the back and then hands over the ring.  
  
"Zayn," Liam's voice is all over the place as he attempts to grip Zayn's hand, "first, thank you for reducing me to this," He blinks away his tears and Zayn's smile is full of soft edged affection, "and thank you for not letting Lou write that entire speech," Liam shoots Louis a grin at this who places a hand upon his chest, mock offended, "now what I really want to say is that when I was younger I never thought I would grow up and meet a beautiful boy and that he would pay any attention to me. Nor did I think that he would have slept with my new best mate same as I had," Zayn glowers just a little at the mention, "or that he'd throw up after kissing me," Zayn's mouth falls open a little, "yeah I saw you. But it didn't put me off. Never. I mean I worried about my kissing skills a little...but I was desperate to see you again. Basically these past few years have constantly been about me thanking my lucky stars that you chose me, that you want me. Because I never thought I could have anybody like you."  
  
Liam's voice breaks towards the end and he tilts his head a little, laughing at himself as Zayn squeezes his hand.  
  
"Anyway better finish up before I flood the whole room so Zayn, I place this ring on your finger as a symbol of my gratitude to you for loving me when you could have had anybody you wanted. It's a symbol of the fact that I love you from now until forever and that I will indeed always be there to clean out the last of your hair products and bring up my exes in conversation whenever I feel like you're not paying enough attention. I love you."  
  
Liam slides the ring on and then the two men grasp each other's hands tightly, smiling into each other's eyes. Kym is smiling broadly now as she grabs both their shoulders.  
  
"Without further ado, I would like to pronounce you husbands. You may kiss your groom," she bellows, releasing them just into time as they rock into each other's bodies, lips surging together.  
  
The kiss is extended and dirty, all violent lips fighting for control and rhythmic tilts of their heads. Eventually Louis nods at Harry and they both lunge at the boys, pulling them apart. Liam as always looks a little embarrassed while Zayn most probably debates severing Louis' head from the rest of his body. But they're no longer scarring people for life and that's the main thing.  
  
As Harry and Louis proceed up the aisle after them, Harry draws Louis against his body, squeezing his side.  
  
"What did you think?" He asks.  
  
"I think you handed that ring over just right babe. You didn't even drop it! Good boy!" Louis patronises, eyes shining.  
  
"Louis," He growls back.  
  
"I thought it was perfect actually," Louis concedes.  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
Louis turns his head a fraction and notes the contemplative look in Harry's eye.  
  
"What's going on in that curly head of yours?" He asks, reaching up to ruffle said curls.  
  
Harry catches his hand, giving his fingers a brief squeeze, a strange light in his eye.  
  
"Nothing you need to concern yourself with."  
  
Naturally, Louis spends the entirety of the journey to the reception begging Harry to tell him what's going on and grumbling when Harry refuses, clearly amused by Louis' desperation.  
  
When they walk into the hall, Louis' arm around Harry's waist, Harry's forced to stop due to the fact that Louis stills at the sight of the room. It's filled with small, white round tables done up with lacy white cloths and matching embroidered cushions. There's softly glowing candelabras at each one and a massive, stunning chandelier overhead that reflects the soft white light in different directions. The stage is set up at the head of the room, just beside the doors to the kitchen and Niall is already there, sifting through music and setting up the microphone.  
  
"Harry, this is brilliant. You did an amazing job," Louis gushes, turning to bestow a look of pride.  
  
Harry's green eyes flicker with amusement at the avid fascination on Louis' face as he lets his gaze drift back to the chandelier.  
  
"You know Kymberly planned this. I had little to do with it."  
  
Louis gives him a look of disbelief.  
  
"Don't be modest Haz. She might as well have payed you. She couldn't have done it without you," Harry glows under the praise, "and it's stunning. Simply stunning. Just like you."  
  
Louis stretches up on his toes to brush Harry's mouth with his own and Harry's arm curls around his side, squeezing slightly as their tongues connect.  
  
"Now now, enough of that. The happy couple will be here soon and I'd like to enjoy my eyesight before that moment comes."  
  
Niall's brash accent is loud in Louis' ear as Harry releases him and they turn to face the boy.  
  
"Niall!" Louis says jovially, "Haven’t talked to you all day mate. You look dashing."  
  
Niall cackles and reels Louis in for a tight hug.  
  
"Don't ask me what but H has definitely got something up his sleeve," he whispers too quietly for Harry to hear.  
  
Louis pulls back with a raised eyebrow. Harry looks on with suspicion.  
  
"What are you two whispering about? Stop talking about me," he grumbles.  
  
"Not everything is about you Harold. Honestly, don't be so self-centred."  
  
Harry rolls his eyes but let's it go anyway as Louis wonders at his secrecy.  
  
It's a few hours later that Louis gets a taste of his own medicine when Harry shoots off to the toilet because when Louis tears himself away from his conversation with Zayn, he finds Harry not anywhere near the toilet but perched on the edge of the stage, kneeling down to discuss something with Liam and Niall. He looks seriously pale and off balance and Louis is about to go demand to know what the problem is when Zayn forcibly turns his face back around.  
  
"Zayn, tell me what's going on. Is Harry okay?" Louis interrogates, with hardened eyes.  
  
"He's fine Lou, I promise. He just...has a surprise for you."  
  
Zayn's eyes glint mischievously and Louis’ stomach jumps and jives at the thought.  
  
"What kind of surprise?" He asks warily.  
  
Zayn turns his head back to Harry now who's fiddling with the microphone.  
  
"Looks like you're about to find out."  
  
Louis pushes his shaking fingers into his lap.  
  
"Hello. Hi," Harry shouts, quickly gathering people's attention with his deep, loud voice, "so um...I kind of have a bit of a surprise for the happy couple," Louis feels a little guilty as his heart sinks, "I've invited a recently acquired friend of mine here tonight to sing for you. No one knows this, not even my lovely boyfriend, but Ed Sheeran and I have been working on some stuff together for his new album," the room gasps dramatically, "so I invited him here to sing with me the song we wrote. It's called Tenerife Sea. Babe, this is for you."  
  
Harry points in Louis’ direction now with a huge grin and Louis' spirits lift. Harry wrote him a song with Ed Sheeran. That hopelessly sentimental fucker. That adorable idiot. Louis' eyes flash immediately to the kitchen doors as a rough looking, ginger haired man stalks out, guitar slung over his shoulder, microphone in hand and then everybody cheers. Ed Sheeran. Ed Sheeran in the flesh. The strange thing is that Zayn and Liam look just as caught off guard as everybody else, sharing a feverish kiss with looks of appreciative surprise poised on their faces. If they knew about Harry's surprise for Louis then they surely would have known about Ed Sheeran. It makes no sense.  
  
Yet the thought is chased away when Ed mounts the stage and clasps Harry in a tight hug. It's nothing more than friendly but Louis rather fears he's taking after Zayn in his own possessive urges. He trusts Harry, he does but he still can't quite stop the heated jealousy rising in his throat knowing that Harry's spent so much time with another man without telling Louis...and top it all off, he's a prolific singer songwriter. If he wasn't so sure Harry was in love with him, he'd be up on that stage right now, tearing them apart. As it is, he has to force the irrational thoughts away but he smiles at the two as Ed starts to play the guitar.  
  
_You look so beautiful in your dress,  
I love your hair like that,   
the way it falls on the side of your neck,   
down your shoulders and back.  
_  
Louis supposes that Harry didn't write this part. Otherwise they may have a bit of an issue. He smirks at his own internal humour as he looks on.  
  
_We are surrounded by all of these lies and people who talk too much.  
You got the kind of look in your eyes,   
As if no one knows anything but us.  
_  
_Should this be the last thing I see,_  
I want you to know it's enough for me,   
Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need.  
  
Harry's voice blends perfectly with Ed's, both consisting of rough, deep tones and as Harry's voice softly calls out the next few lines, his eyes which had previously been erratic, finally come to rest on Louis' and hold their position, communicating the truth of the song. It immobilises Louis completely. He feels completely boneless with those eyes burning up his body.

_I'm so in love, so in love  
so in love, so in love_

_You look so beautiful in this light_  
your silhouette over me  
the way it brings out the blue in your eyes  
is the Tenerife Sea

 _And all of the voices surrounding us here_  
they just fade out when you take a breath  
Just say the word and I will disappear  
into the wilderness

 _And should this be the last thing I see_  
I want you to know it's enough for me  
because all that you are is all that I'll ever need

_I'm so in love, so in love  
so in love, so in love_

_Lumiere, darling  
Lumiere over me_

As Ed sings, his voice carrying out over the hordes of people looking on with wide eyed appreciation, Harry detaches his microphone and jumps off the stage, grinning all the while. Louis feels a slow smile forming on his face in response. He tries to bite down on it and fails even as his lips purse with determination. Zayn and Liam are looking at him when he turns to meet their eyes, glowing with some form of second-hand happiness and Niall has a huge grin, of course. Harry’s holding that secret between his smiling lips as he navigates his way through the tables and comes to stand before Louis, continuing to sing and Louis can sense it’s soon going to trickle out.

  
_Lumiere, darling_  
Lumiere over me  
Lumiere, darling  
Lumiere over me

Both the guitar and Ed’s voice fall silent now as Harry strains his own, the tendons in his throat stretching as he reaches out and grasps Louis hand, his eyes melting Louis’ soul so effectively.

 _And should this be the last thing I see_  
I want you to know it's enough for me  
Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need

 _I'm so in love, so in love_  
So in love, love, love, love,  
So in love

Harry’s voice trails away and his audience is help captive as he slowly drops to one knee. Louis’ heart is in his throat, his pupils blown wide and Harry flushes, almost shy, his beautiful curls falling upon his cheeks in a cascade of chocolate brown. Louis’ never felt so helpless to resist somebody before. Harry is his undoing in every way, shape and form.

“Louis,” he breathes into the microphone.

“Harold.”

Louis’ voice shakes. This is his surprise. Harry is proposing. Harry is fucking proposing. Louis feels like someone shoved a hand in his brain and moved it about. He can barely think straight, let alone decide anything in this moment. He’d never thought somebody would ask but then again, he never thought he’d fall in love like this either. He never thought he’d wake up beside somebody and not shove them out of the bed, desperate to be free.

“Lou,” Harry says, much softer now and Louis hears the creak of chairs as people strain forward to hear him better, “I had an idea…an idea that’s been cooking in my mind from the first moment I realised I was in love with you but I waited because maybe a part of me thought that would fade, that I was just caught up in the excitement. But here we are.”

Louis slides off the chair and drops to his knees now, his blue eyes carrying a plea. A plea for mercy.

“Harry you don’t have to do this…now…here…” Louis whispers.

Yet Harry doesn’t remove the microphone. His eyes tighten a little, his expression less endearingly soft, a bit more anxious but he’s still got that quiet determination about him that bothers Louis so.

“Just let me say it. Let me say it and just listen,” he says hurriedly, wrapping a tight hand around Louis’ wrist.

Louis nods woodenly, his eyes glued to Harry’s.

“I asked Zayn and Liam if they wouldn’t mind so very much if I hijacked their special day because I wanted to do this in a room full to the brim with joy and love. I wanted to do this on this day, on this occasion so maybe…maybe you’d see how it could be for us. Maybe your defences would be lowered and you’d know that this,” Harry’s eyes trail the faces of those that surround them, “is everything you deserve. It’s everything you should have with me baby.”

Louis feels the wetness beneath his eyes but he just gulps, his throat thickening as he denies it all. Harry’s not so brusque though, that trembling smile becoming something more stable as he arcs his body over Louis’, brushing away the wetness ever so gently, pushing Louis’ fringe back in a familiar gesture used to calm him.

“Louis, you have the brightest soul of anybody I’ve ever met and the least awareness of it. I look up…or rather down,” Harry grins, “at you and see the most wonderful thing – somebody who releases all of his light but only lets so much in. You love and move us all Lou but when it comes to accepting it back, you’re much more selective. And it only makes me more grateful that I’m allowed to love you and that I’m allowed to wrap you in my arms and make you feel tiny when I really want to. Because you’re never afraid of it anymore, you’re not afraid to get back on the playground.”

Harry winks and Louis’ chuckle is slightly desperate, choked with emotion.

“I love you for your brilliant sparks of humour, for your blue, blue eyes, My Tenerife Sea, for these creases that mark your happiness, my love,” Harry traces the skin surrounding his eyes, “for the mess your hair is in the morning when you wake up… when you’re all sleepy and confused…but your lips seek mine anyway, almost like a reflex,” another smile, “and I think that says so much…that it’s a reflex for you to search for me now and I promise that I will always be there because my reflex is to be in love with you Louis Tomlinson. My reflex is to love you forever and beyond. So here I am, only 20 but certain that there could be no one else who captivates me quite like you do.”

Harry takes a deep breath and grasps Louis’ hand so tight in his now.

“I hadn’t decided anything until today. I wanted the final decision to come today and it did, as soon as I saw you walking toward me across the aisle, looking stunning, looking like the only man I ever want to touch for the rest of my life. Being here with you today…it sold me…it sold me on a life with you. I know you’re terrified,” Harry squeezes his fingers, “I know you’re terrified that you’re no different from that boy, that man that I met two years ago who did not want what I had to offer but I know differently. I know the way your lips smile without your permission when I cradle your face as you sleep, I know the way you murmur ‘Haz’ and reach for me because even in sleep, I’m your hidey space…I’m that place you can go where no one else can get in, where you are safe. I belong to you.”

Louis feels like he’s freefalling, the whole world blurring dizzily around him. Everything is Harry. Harry _is_ his everything.

“Louis William Tomlinson,” Harry’s voice is heavy with weighted words, his eyes never wavering even as Louis’ fingers tremble, “will you be my husband? Will you marry me?”

Louis feels terror seize his whole body. Fight or flight. The adrenaline flows from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes but he's locked in place because the war being waged is internal. He feels like asking Harry, how can you ask this much of me? How can you see so much that isn't there? How could anybody think that he's the marrying type? He isn't. He can’t be.  
  
Sure, he entertained the thought once or twice when he was young and naive and thought every relationship was a bed of roses. Before he met Zach. Before he lay with so many men he lost count and found that they had no qualms about one night only either. That's the life Louis knows. A life of constantly looking over your shoulder just to make sure no one's catching. A life of immediate gratification and selfish desire.  
  
Yes, he'd promised Harry a future but had he really ever thought about what that would mean? He never thought that just two years later, Harry would be poised on one knee, looking up at him with the same mad, beautiful green eyes, looking all the wiser and so certain. Louis knows him well enough to know a rash decision from a well thought out one, to distinguish his manic madness from true craving, to be able to tell whether he might change his mind tomorrow or a few weeks after that.  
  
This is for real. This is for always. Harry's expression tells Louis that this isn't some fanciful idea or a poorly conceived notion of happiness in youth. Harry wants him for the rest of his life and Harry deserves the same. Somebody who will love him without regret, without that love waning. He deserves someone who will look at him in fifty years’ time and still be as hopelessly endeared...Harry deserves someone who will be the difference between his simply existing and him living.  
  
Can Louis encompass all that? Can he, a reformed scoundrel, produce bunnies from a hat and make Harry's life as masterful as his beautiful spirit? Louis' mind casts over the past two years now, plucking images from within his memory and holding them up for Louis to see. It's as though his mind were forcing him down into a chair, locking his head in place and forcing him to watch the screen. Yet as the images start to flicker to life, he feels compelled to watch anyway. He gazes on as the figures begin to move, so far removed from that world in which he kneels on the floor of a wedding reception in front of a man asking him to make a choice.  
  
The first in the series is nothing monumental but Louis' eyes are glued to the screen as he watches these two characters wriggling against each other, squealing and giggling like two little girls. Louis is poised on top of Harry's body on their couch, his legs either side and pinning him there as Harry fights Louis' determined fingers which pinch his sides. Louis eventually relents when Harry lets out a high keen and then they just sit there motionless until Harry's lips stretch back into a grin.  
  
"Now kiss me you fool."  
  
Harry doesn't have to ask twice. Louis arcs his body and plunges his hands into Harry's curls, taking his mouth in a feverish kiss that lingers on his mouth even when he pulls away with glowing blue eyes.

….  
   
The next scene is one from when they'd only been together a few months and were being particularly disgusting with each other one night at the pub with the boys.

“So if you could go on like an ultimate date with any celebrity who would it be and why?” Niall bellows across the table at Louis.

Harry looks a little miffed which makes Louis chuckle.

“So you pick who you’re taking,” he taps Harry’s pointer finger, “where you’re going,” he brushes his middle finger, “and where the night finishes up.”

He waggles Harry’s ring finger now and Harry tucks his head against his chin with a boyishly pleased grin.

“I’d take Harry for the night,” Louis chirps, “I’d take him to the Doncaster dome…ice skating rink, 2 levels…and where would the night would finish? At Home. In bed. With some form of dessert.”

Louis winks at Harry whose smile is practically up to his ears.

“He’s not a celebrity,” Zayn scoffs.

“He will be,” Louis protests, “and besides, why would I want to date anybody else when I can wine and dine my own boy?”

“Your boy,” Harry murmurs beside him, content as anything.

Louis leans into him and gently bites his shoulder with playful eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” Niall groans.

“You make Zayn and I look like simply good friends,” Liam comments but his eyes are filled with warmth.

Now Louis feels like a pathetic sap.

“Well….if I ever got sick of him, I guess I’d give Beckham a go.”

Harry pushes his lips into a pout and shoves Louis away.

“Now you’ve done it,” Zayn warns, pointing a finger at Louis.

Louis just smiles and grabs Harry around the waist, gripping tighter as he tries to pull away. He shapes himself against the boy’s side, making his own body as small and petite as Harry likes to claim it is. His blue eyes sparkle as he pushes his mouth against Harry’s pulse point, just breathing hot and heavy for a moment before briefly sucking the skin into his mouth.

“You forgive me babe, don’t you?”

Harry’s straight lined mouth spells annoyance but his twitching eyes scream arousal.

“You are the worst,” he grumbles.

“But I love you.”

Louis’ grin is pointed.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Louis pinches his thigh to punish him for not saying it back.

…..

This one has no real significance to Louis at first. It’s just dinner at Ziam’s place. Harry looks gorgeous as always in a red and blue checked shirt and dark jeans but Louis doesn’t remember much of what happened. It was around a year ago.

Yet he feels fondness overtake as he watches the interaction that follows. Harry’s telling some predictably long winded, perpetually dull story about the time he went to feed the ducks and one tried to follow him home. It’s cute though and Past Louis thinks so too. He shoots glares at Zayn every time he threatens to interrupt and offers a few more to ensure the rest of the crew laugh at the parts which are supposed to be humorous. He’s proper sick with love for the boy.

He’s looking at Harry the way he never did when it was just Harry pursuing him. It startles Louis to see it on his face, the way his smile warps his closed mouth almost against his will, as though his lips were bowing with the pressure of trying not to adore the curly headed beauty before him. Harry’s looking out to the rest of the boys now for their reactions since he’s told Louis this one before but he must feel Louis’ eyes on him because he turns just a fraction in his seat and catches Louis staring.

It’s usually the other way round and Harry looks delighted to find Louis’ eyes fastened on him, an open toothed smile lifting his dimpled cheeks. Louis looks away, his own cheeks twitching but as soon as Harry’s eyes flit away, he’s staring once more. This time when Harry catches him, he jumps a little but then their smiles meet in an intimate tangle of happiness and mutual fondness and he feels buoyed. Past Louis looks like someone presented him with the secrets of the universe and as Present Louis watches on, he wonders if that isn’t just exactly what happened.

….

Another seemingly unremarkable moment as the screen in his mind fills with colour. They were walking home from the pub late one night with Zayn and Liam and Louis and Liam were knocking into each other. Yet Harry seemingly had a problem with Liam knocking Louis around, probably everything to do with his misguided belief that Louis’ too tiny to be knocked around (like hello, he has biceps?!) as he pushed Liam back by the chest with concern written all over his face.

Louis had rolled his eyes but just quietly, he had felt a little shot of warmth trickle throughout his body and had smiled idiotically down at the pavement. Harry had been watching though, of course and had flashed him an amused, if not slightly triumphant grin. However Zayn was throwing Harry a look that said “what the fuck” because oh yeah, someone else touched his boyfriend and he’s insane.

Louis just reached across Liam to pulled Harry into his arms, dancing him down the street and away from Zayn’s threatening looks. He grabbed Harry’s hand and Harry completed the quintessential twirl, looking like the perfect, pigeon toed ballerina as he giggled childishly. Louis didn’t bother to contain the adoration plain in his eyes.

…..

“I don’t understand why you insist on this. You’re being ridiculous,” Harry had yelled at Louis as he followed him to the kitchen.

“I want us to be equals.”

Louis had turned around to find confusion in Harry’s eyes.

“We’re never going to be equals. You’ll always be the stud and I’ll always be…well…me,” Harry said, shrugging delicately.

Louis sighed and slung his arms around Harry’s neck.

“You know what Stan said to me after he met you that first time?”

“What?”

“Good lad. Nice little body,” Louis recounted, “and he’s not even gay Haz. I told him that was my line and to keep his hands off …but honestly, if you think I’m somehow more attractive than you, you’re barking. Absolutely barking mad.”

Harry of course took this as an invitation to bark like a dog, a goofy grin on his face.

“Just…why this Louis?” He said after a moment, “You know this is the one thing I can do that you can’t.”

“Can’t?” Louis’ whole body twitched with agitation, “you think it’s physically impossible?”

“Well…”

“That’s it. I’m doing this…on my own….without your help…because I can!” Louis said determinedly, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

Harry passed a large hand over his cheek, cupping it then leaned down and swept his lips across Louis’ crinkled brow.

“Go for it love.”

Louis would not be charmed. He stormed over to the bench and started pulling out the necessary materials, an indent already forming between his eyebrows from concentrating too hard. A moment later, he heard Harry’s footsteps drifting toward the couch.

Louis followed the first three directions quite well if he may say so himself. Preheat oven, check. Grease baking tray, check. Put ingredients in bowl, check. The fourth step however presented him with a problem. He got the appropriate tool out and stared at it quizzically for a few moments, hoping that his sheer force of will would reveal its purpose. Yet no such luck. Harry had apparently migrated to the bedroom so Louis raised his voice, feeling his superiority trickle slowly away. He had no pride left.

“Harry, would you come here a moment?”

When Harry arrived beside the bench, Louis looked up to find him naked from head to toe with a semi and looking rather amused now with upturned lips.

“Harold,” he scolded him, “what on earth were you doing?”

“I was just going to have a nap,” Harry grinned, “but then I remembered that Liam sent me the video of you from the weekend…playing footie….in your shorts. Thought I’d have a perve.”

Louis felt rather hot under the collar just hearing that. He reached around and gripped Harry’s ass, pulling him against his own body.

“You and I are going to-“

“What did you need?” Harry asked, far too cheery, as he brushed away the dash of flour on Louis’ forehead.

Louis sighed, sexually frustrated but then held up the offensive utensil.

“How do you whisk?”

…..

Another room. Another setting. Zayn had been over for dinner and Louis was joking around with him, Zayn trying to feed him as they fell across the table laughing with each other. Harry looked a little disgruntled but Louis didn’t really pay attention until a foot kicked his under the table.

“Getting jealous over here,” Harry said, glaring at his dinner.

Zayn reached over and tousled his hair much to Louis’ annoyance.

“He’s all yours. I wouldn’t want to be cleaning up after him. Hopeless roommate. Surely you’d rather one of us boys,” Zayn said, winking at Louis, that bloody ass.

Yet Harry just looked up at Louis, letting his eyes do all the talking.

“Nope.”

“Trained him well Lou,” Zayn commented.

“He is my golden retriever,” Louis agreed, clasping Harry’s foot between both of his under the table.

“Yours,” Harry mouthed at him, “always.”

…….

The next one is a weird one. This whole procession of images is rather hard to comprehend as a whole...how on earth is his brain able to go beyond his own mind, almost as if he were watching himself from someone else's eyes? But this one is even more startling because it's the first time he's ever seen himself asleep. He does look rather...tiny, vulnerable even. The thought is disconcerting.  
  
He's squirming in his bed, his whole face clenching and unclenching as he turns from side to side, looking truly pained. Louis suddenly remembers this night and the images that had been haunting him in his dreams, or the person rather.  
  
Louis had been whispering a quiet "no, please" as he struggled but now he lets out a slightly louder, tortured cry.  
  
"No, Zach. Please!"  
  
Harry's beside him, face relaxed with sleep but his eyes fly open at this and he turns to Louis, cupping his cheeks immediately and rubbing his thumbs across the lines of tension, looking quite tortured himself.  
  
"Louis," he says, eyes shifting restlessly over Louis' face as Louis continues to struggle, his tight grey shirt bunching up at his hips.  
  
"Lou," Harry calls, more insistent now, "Lou, wake up."  
  
Louis startles into wakefulness, his eyes wide and blinking as he sits up, looking to Harry. He stares, unseeing for a moment until Harry's thumbs press into his hip bones and he begins to shudder as he remembers the nightmare.  
  
"Haz," he whimpers, not even pausing to consider how pathetic he looks or how fragile as he climbs into Harry's lap, looking up at him with big, sad blue eyes.

Harry’s soft green eyes shift across his face with gentle concern as he rubs Louis’ back.

“It’s okay boo, it was just a nightmare. He can’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

Harry pulls Louis against him, arms wound around his body as he utters the words, Louis’ head is tucked against his neck, his soft brown hair tickling Harry’s shoulder. Harry leans down and brushes his mouth across Louis’ head.

“Promise me you’ll always be here Harry,” Louis pleads, pulling back with arms still slung around Harry’s neck.

“I promise.”

Harry eyes Louis’ shivering body for a moment before reaching over the bed and retrieving his hoodie from the floor, holding it up with a questioning glance.  Louis’ stretches his arms up like a child and Harry pulls it over his head with a small smile

When Louis eventually falls asleep, it’s to the sensation of Harry playing with his hair and singing Disney tunes softly. However what Louis never saw until now was the way that Harry looked at him after he drifted off. He skims his finger across Louis’ closed eyelids, a small smile playing over his lips and rubs a thumb across Louis’ mouth which parts as he lets out soft breaths in his sleep. He never heard the words that Harry leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“I want you to need me like that for the rest of your life…because that is how I need you; always. That is how I love you. Sleep now love, you are safe with me.”

……

“Get this fucking coat off me.”

Harry’s breath is ragged in his ear as Louis pushes him through the doorway and up against the wall.

“I’m trying Harold. Why did you have to button it up the whole way?!”

Harry chuckles and then mouths at his jaw.

“I thought you liked a challenge,” he teases.

“A challenge is like that time Niall stayed over and I had to stop you from making any noise when you came,” Louis complains, finally getting the last button undone and pushing the offensive item off Harry’s shoulders, “that coat is a fucking nightmare.”

Harry grins appreciatively at the memory. Louis’ makes quick work of his shirt and then runs his hand across Harry’s ripped body.

“There will be noise tonight,” Louis says, no question in his tone, “there will be more noise in this flat than when Niall, Mishka, Larry and I are all in an excitable mood.”

Harry raises his eyebrows.

“That possible?”

Louis chortles and then stretches up to kiss Harry, his eyelashes fluttering as Harry’s tongue traces the edges of his mouth before plunging deep.

“Hurry up and get naked,” Harry grips his waist, clothed in a fitted shirt, “I miss you beneath me.”

“Or above you,” Louis adds with a smirk.

“We kind of share that really,” they say at the same time, laughing as they recall that time Stan asked them about Mario Kart.

Louis’ heart bursts with affection.

…….

“He had his hand on your fucking thigh,” Harry growls, pacing after Louis who storms into the bedroom, ripping his shirt away, throwing it across the room in anger.

He whips around now with defiant blue eyes and watches triumphantly as Harry’s eyes trip down to his abdominals and then reluctantly rise once more.

“Would you quit swearing? You know it doesn’t suit you as much as you think. And so what? He was Niall’s mate, he was just being friendly and you have to go patting my thigh, getting all stroppy because someone else bloody touched me,” Louis rages, cocking his hip to one side.

He’s more of a diva than he’d care to admit.

“You’re a hypocrite Louis. As if you don’t throw shade at Nick every time we hang out. You hate the fact that we’re friends,” Harry says through gritted teeth.

“That’s different!”

“Oh really?”

“He bloody came onto you before I did. That bothers me. Tonight was just two lads being lads. You’re blowing it out of proportion. Saying I encouraged him…what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Harry crosses the room, tripping over Louis’ shirt because of course but he just keeps coming, gripping Louis’ biceps and looking positively enraged, his beautiful green eyes deadly in the soft glow of the streetlight streaming in through the window.

“You. You’re what’s wrong with me. You were in his lap. I know you’re….tactile but Lou, there has to be some difference between me and the rest of the world. I want it to be clear that-“Harry cuts off, looking torn.

“That what?”

“That I’m not just anybody. That I’m the real deal,” Harry says slowly, holding Louis’ eyes waiting for some form of protest.

Yet Louis’ frustration bleeds away immediately. He kisses Harry slow and tender, breathing life into his stiff mouth, kissing away the tension.

“No more sitting in boys laps. Only yours. Only you,” he vows, his forehead bowed against Harry’s, “you’re the real fucking deal Harry.”

…..

Louis comes back to himself, every memory still painted against the back of his eyelids, echoes of promises and endearments ringing in his ears. The fear bubbling in his throat stops bubbling as he comes back to tense, fearful green eyes and a room full of people waiting for a response. His muscles lock into his place, his heart beats once more and his blood vessels begin to explode with this extraordinary sensation.

He looks upon the face before him. Harry Edward Styles. Only twenty years old but with a soul that’s grown gardens that burst with evergreen wisdom. The kind of boy you not only take home to meet your mother but the kind that texts your mother to let her know her son is happy and safe. He’s the kind of man that wakes you up with elaborate breakfasts and hot, wet kisses. He’s the kind of boyfriend who looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass even when you’re acting like a twat. He’s the kind of soft, curly headed angel with supernaturally green eyes and limbs that never obey him that you fall in love with and never quite stop falling.

Louis thinks now of something he read of Edgar Allan Poe when he was in school. “We loved with a love that was more than love.” This expansion of his chest in Harry’s presence is more than any tangible emotion he’s ever felt. He loves his mum. He loves Zayn, Liam and Niall. He loves his siblings and Dan and he’s loved quite freely throughout his life. Yet he’d always held something back, something that belongs to Harry now; that feeling which he understands now to be more than love.

Love is almost too instinctual to be romantic. It’s looking up into your mother’s eyes for the first time and grasping her fingers as a tiny infant. It’s falling for the puppy dog look in Liam’s eyes and finding an affinity with Zayn who’s just so at ease with himself and the world around him. It’s laughing with Niall until they’re both slapping at their legs trying to contain themselves. It’s natural, it’s wonderful but it’s somewhat limited. It cannot compare to this thing inside him now that’s always growing.

What he has with Harry is love, that instinctual reaction you have to somebody who attracts you and compels you continually but it’s more, it’s a love that’s more than love because as Louis looks into these mesmerising eyes now, it’s more than any one quality that either of them has or shares. It’s this unique energy that flows between them that not another soul will ever understand. It’s supernatural, magic even. It’s that unexplainable, inexplicable, indefinable collection of emotions that supersedes everything else.

Louis forces the words up out of his dry throat, squeezed so tight with overwhelming emotion.

“Yes,” he gasps, watching absolute joy break over Harry’s face, “I’ll marry you Harry….because it rhymes.”

Harry laughs, wet and relieved and pulls Louis across the floor, smashing his lips down against Louis.’ Louis doesn’t even notice the applause echoing around the room until harry pulls back with a grin and plucks a small velvet box from his pocket. The small silver ring looks plain at first but after Harry slides the band onto his ring finger, Louis spots a sentence inscribed into the metal. He looks up at Harry who nods eagerly, encouraging him to read, his eyes full of happy tears about to brim over. Louis touches his face tenderly. _I love you_ , he says with his eyes and when he looks down at the ring, he finds the same message, just written with slightly different words.

“ _I am your only exception, for always.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading (if you've stuck around.) Please let me know what you thought and please check out the first chapter of my new fic here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4191141. I think it's the best one yet :)


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